But the very pools were there to teach thee, thou art so ugly, so ugly: and she was so beautiful. Couldst thou expect any better fate than hers? How could she love thee, being herself so unworthy to be loved? And he was like the very god of love, wandering in the wood. But it was she, that lost her way. He knew his way very well indeed. How could she expect, to keep him all to herself? Is not the whole world full to the very brim of women, with cruel eyes? O Babhru, why wert thou such a fool as to think one woman any better than another? Fool that she was, to think to keep him all to herself! O Babhru, thou art absolutely nothing, in comparison with him. Thou art so rude and coarse and rough, and he is more beautiful than any woman. And he was so gentle and so kind, and his kisses were so sweet. No, it was Babhru who was kind, and he was like a snake. Listen, and let me tell thee: kisses that are sweet are the bitterest of all: when other lips come in between. Thou feelest them, the other lips, between his lips and thy own. And his lips were a flower that is visited by a thousand bees. O Babhru, how canst thou know anything about it, since thy lips have never kissed anyone at all? Kiss me, poor Babhru, and thou shall learn by experience the poison of a kiss, from lips that are sticky with the honey left by other bees. IV And as Babhru listened, gazing at her with alarm, with his reason swept as it were along in a flood of grief, and humiliation, and compassion, and sheer amazement, and hardly understanding the words flowing from her mouth like the water of a stream, she stopped short, and laid her hand upon his own. And he started at its touch, for it burned him like a flame, as if she was on fire. And she said with a smile, while the tears were running down her face: Babhru, dost thou know, Aranyani was a creeper, supported by a noble tree? And yet somehow or other, the tree has disappeared. Who knows? for doubtless it was all eaten away within, and hollow, and as I think, the ants must have devoured it, leaving absolutely nothing but emptiness, and earth, and dust. So beautiful it seemed outside, surely the poor creeper could not tell, how base, and rotten, and horrible it was within. So when I saw it suddenly, inside, it hurt me here. And she put both her hands upon her heart, and began to sob. And then, all at once, she began again to laugh. And she said: Aye! she was a pearl, and a swan, and I know not what beside, and now she is absolutely nothing, like a broken pot. And the golden boat has perished, never so much as reaching even the shadow of the sea. Babhru, it was a lie: it was a miserable boat, all full of holes, that sank into the cold black water like a stone. Base and rotten, how could it swim, loaded with such an innumerable host of other women? Base, ah! who knows better than Aranyani the agony of finding it was base. Was Aranyani base, Babhru, dost thou know? And all the women hated each other, she