And I said: “Will you not have wine and bread with me?”
And He said: “Yes, Miriam, but not now.”
Not now, not now , He said. And the voice of the sea was in those two words, and the voice of the wind and the trees. And when He said them unto me, life spoke to death.
For mind you, my friend, I was dead. I was a woman who had divorced her soul. I was living apart from this self which you now see.
I belonged to all men, and to none. They called me harlot, and a woman possessed of seven devils. I was cursed, and I was envied.
But when His dawn-eyes looked into my eyes all the stars of my night faded away, and I became Miriam, only Miriam, a woman lost to the earth she had known, and finding herself in new places.
And now again I said to Him: “Come into my house and share bread and wine with me.”
And He said:
“Why do you bid me to be your guest?”
And I said:
“I beg you to come into my house.”
And it was all that was sod in me and all that was sky in me calling unto Him.
Then He looked at me, and the noontide of His eyes was upon me, and He said: