n herself, she cannot
comprehend. And like jugglers, that are not taken in by their own
tricks, women look upon men as mere fools, for being taken in at all.
For a woman's charm, to a woman, is not only not a charm at all, but a
trick, and a lure, understood, and utterly despised. So now, be a
man, and whatever folly thou art meditating, at least beware of being
guilty of the very greatest of them all, by doubting of thy own
superiority of manhood to the womanhood of any woman, no matter who
she be: and earning her contempt, by lying at her feet. And now,
farewell! for I have business with Narasinha.

And at the name of Narasinha, I pricked up my ears. And I said, with
feigned indifference: Who is Narasinha?

And Haridasa spat upon the ground. And he said: One, whom thou art
lucky not to know: and yet, his name is _apropos_. For he is the
Queen's lover, and an instance in point: since he leads her by a
string, just because he treats her as a trifle, and not, as all her
other lovers do, as a gem not to be matched by any other in the sea.
And yet he is not, like thee, a man among men, but a man among women.
For just as a dancing-girl loves to be treated as a queen, so does a
queen love to be treated as a dancing-girl.

And then, all at once, he struck me on the shoulder. And he said, in a
low voice: Why didst thou start, when I named Narasinha?

And without waiting for any answer, he got quickly on his camel, and
rode away, never looking back.

XIII

And I stood, looking after him, with a startled heart, and then I went
home slowly, saying to myself: How in the world did he guess my
secret, and what did he mean? Was there a warning in his words? And
what is all this about the Queen? Did he ever see her in his life? for
if he had, he would long ago have discovered that all his rules have
exceptions, of which Tarawali is one: being not only the very gem
beyond comparison that he spoke of with contempt, but a woman of women
who very certainly never would despise any one at all, least of all
the man who thought her exactly what she is, a star, far, far above
his own muddy earth: a thing made of some rare celestial matter,
differing altogether from anything to be found here below, fetched by
the Creator when he meant to make her from some abysmal intermundane
mine, where ocean foam and lunar ooze and sandal-wood and camphor lie
jumbled up together with the essence of all curves and smiles and
whispers and soft kisses