Quoth she, “What makes thy speech so riddling dark?” Quoth he, “My love’s hair has entangled me.” Quoth she, “Give up this passion for thy queen.” Quoth he, “But that were to give up my soul.” Quoth she, “Thy mistress is not true to thee.” Quoth he, “Enough to me is her disdain.” Quoth she, “Fruition of her cannot be.” Quoth he, “Without her I am bound to die.” Quoth she, “Begone and leave this rose garden.” Quoth he, “To leave this spot is leaving life.” Quoth she, “No pity is outpoured for thee.” Quoth he, “Yet pity still be praised by me.” Quoth she, “And dost thou hope for bliss at last?” Quoth he, “Does not the sun shed light over all?” Quoth she, “Thou liest beneath the sword of pain.” Quoth he, “So be it. I have naught to say.” Quoth she, “This separation costs thy blood.” Quoth he, “My blood, yes, and my soul as well.” She saw that this poor wretched stripling still An answer made to every jibe of hers. The hyacinth with jealous passion glowered, Her face grew black through bitterness and wrath. Quoth she: “’Tis palpable to me at last, This oaf is amorous of the Rose herself, And can it be that in the rose garden So dissolute a rover should appear? What is his business here in Gulistan? What is he doing in our garden realm? He must at once be banished from the place, So that he tread no more our glorious glade. It is a burning shame, in truth, that one So beggarly should at our threshold lie.” And so excited was the hyacinth That long she pondered trick and guile and ruse. Well versed was she in crooked ways of guile, And took delight in devious intrigue. And now she tried some method to devise By which to purge the bowers of Gulistan. XXXIV THE INSIDIOUS HYACINTH, HER MIND DARKENED WITH ENVY, CONTRIVES THAT THE NIGHTINGALE IS EXPELLED FROM THE ROSE GARDEN