She felt he was going too far.

She did not wish so much darkness, maybe because she was tired or because the picture when painted by some one else seemed exaggerated.
Dream and reality here coincided.

The woman of the poem also protested at this point.
I was carried away by the poet's voice, as he recited, swaying slightly, in the spell of the harmony of his own dream: "At the close of a life of pain and suffering the woman still looked ahead with the curiosity she had when she entered life.

Eve ended as she had begun.

All her subtle eager woman's soul climbed toward the secret as if it were a kind of kiss on the lips of her life.