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“It does make one think, little Bunny, doesn’t it?”
“What does, AJ?”
Bunny looked up at him, perched on the desk, a halo of candlelight dancing in his curls. From his seat on the floor beside the empty grate (the school master had declared it was altogether too warm for a fire, though Bunny heartily disagreed), he felt like his namesake. A quivering little bunny looking up at the sun. The sun shook it’s head, and did not answer. “What makes you think?”AJ turned to look at the window, at the thin ray of moonlight that graciously lit his profile. It’s unfair, Bunny thought, how he can look so much like one of those ancient statues when he wants to.
“Are you well up on your Greek?”Bunny flinched. It was as if AJ had just peeked into his mind and seen exactly what he’d been thinking of.“Not very, I’m afraid.”“Ah.”“AJ?”“Tell me, Bunny, if the whole world told you ‘this is wrong and unspeakable’, would you take them at their word?”“What’s wrong and unspeakable?”“Oh, anything, I suppose.”“I don’t understand.”“Take anything–painting, for example.”“Painting?”“Yes, painting. Now hush, just listen, won’t you? There’s a good lad. Say all the professors told you painting was an unspeakable sin. They say it’s, I dunno, idle. They tell you it creates false idols and worships beauty over God.”“That’s a bit far-fetched, don’t you think?”“Of course it is. But you’re missing the point. You and I know that it’s absurd now, but suppose your entire life no one had ever told you that painting was harmless. Suppose you’d never even heard of it, until one day at school you’re reading up on your Homer and he mentions a great hero who painted.”“I should like to see Odysseus painting,” Bunny grinned, amused at the thought of an easel at the edge of the battlefield and trying to show he did know a little about the poet’s work.“So should I, but never mind that now. If all you knew about painting was that it was now supposed to be a monstrous deed, but once was the habit of heroes–what then?”Bunny sat, thoroughly admonished for his interruptions, waiting for the answer.“Well? What then?” AJ demanded again.“I–I don’t know.”“Would you dare to try painting yourself? Or would you feel bound to live in the society you were born to and all it’s arbitrary rules?”“I–suppose I would have to live in the world I live in, wouldn’t I?”“Why?”“AJ what on earth is this all about?”“Just answer me. Why wouldn’t you dare to paint?”“Well, if it’s immoral…”“Hmph,” AJ sniffed and turned back to the window. Bunny’s face fell. It was a strange sort of interrogation and he had only wanted to give the right answer but how could he know what that was?“I never cared much for their morality anyway,” AJ muttered. A long moment passed in which Bunny only felt worse and worse. He wanted nothing more than AJ’s approval. And after all, the professor’s were only ridiculous old men–AJ was AJ. He knew everything. Bunny trusted him absolutely.“AJ?”“Hmmm?”“If it was only the professor’s saying it, I wouldn’t mind them much, truly. They’re all stuffy old birds anyhow. If you said painting was harmless, why I’d–I’d become the next DaVinci!”AJ laughed openly, delighted. He ruffled Bunny’s hair. And if his smile was at all forced, Bunny did not notice it. The sun shone again–who cared if it had once envied the moon?