From boyhood I had pondered many things. I had lain on my
back and looked up at the stars and wondered how far they were, and how
far the farthest thing beyond them was. I had wondered at that
indeterminate quotient in my sums, where the same figure came, always
the same, running on and on. I used to wonder what was my soul, and I
fancied that it was a pale, blue flaming oblate, somewhere near my back
and in the middle of my body--such was my boyish guess of what they told
me was a real thing. I had pondered on that compass of the skies by
which the wild fowl guide themselves. I had wondered, as a child, how
far the mountains ran. As I had grown older I had read the law, read of
the birth of civilization, pondered on laws and customs. Declaring that
I must know their reasons, I had read of marriages in many lands, and
many times had studied into the questions of dowry and bride-price, and
consent of parents, and consent of the bride--studied marriage as a
covenant, a contract, as a human and a so-called divine thing. I had
questioned the cause of the old myth that makes Cupid blind. I had
delved deep as I might in law, and history and literature, seeking to
solve, as I might--what?
Ah, witless! it was to solve this very riddle that rode by my side now,
to answer the question of the Sphinx.
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