'What do you say?' she weakly asked.
'A jester might say this is just like Paradise. You are Eve, and I am the old Other One come to tempt you in the disguise of an inferior animal. I used to be quite up in that scene of Milton's when I was theological. Some of it goes—
"Empress, the way is ready, and not long,
Beyond a row of myrtles, on a flat
Fast by a fountain, one small thicket past
Of blowing myrrh and balm; if thou accept
My conduct, I can bring thee thither soon."
"Lead then," said Eve.
And so on. My dear, dear Tess, I am only
putting this to you as a thing that you might
have supposed or said quite untruly, because you
think so badly of me.'
'I never said you were Satan, or thought it. I don't think of you in that way at all. My thoughts of you are quite cold, except when you affront me. What, did you come digging here in such a dress entirely because of me?'
'Entirely. To see you; nothing more. To protest against your working like this.'
'But I like doing it—it is for my father.'
