And then Natabhrukuti smiled, and she shook at him her finger, as she answered:  Rash boy, beware:  Be not too sure of the adamantine quality of thy resistance, nor even of thy wisdom in resisting me at all.  And beware of provoking the indignation of slighted Love, who may make of thee a signal example of his vengeance.  Take care, lest annoyed with thy obstinacy in rejecting what he offers thee for nothing, he should deprive thee even of that other beauty on whose account alone it is that I am held by thee so cheap.  Poor youth! but that my lips are tied, I could enlighten thee.  Art thou, who art so ready lightly to disdain me, art thou, I say, so sure, so very sure, that thou art thyself the only lover of this much married beauty, whom thou sawest, as thou sayest, for the very first time in thy life to-day?  Art thou so sure, so very sure, that she is not deceiving thee, and that thou art not merely the last of the many lovers whom she toys with for a moment, and then carelessly casts away?  Art thou so very certain that thou hast never had a predecessor?  And Aja started, in spite of himself.  For the word recalled to him the manner of the old King.  And Natabhrukuti saw it.  And she looked at him as it were with compassion, and said:  Alas! unhappy boy:  thou seest that in thy youth and inexperience such an idea had not occurred to thee.  Little art thou qualified to cope with a woman’s guile.

Then said Aja fiercely, in wrath both with himself and her:  It is false, and she is true.  But Natabhrukuti answered very gently:  Be not angry, for I do not question that she loves thee.  I do not even doubt it:  for if she did not, she would be a fool.  But listen, and learn, what thou dost not seem to know, that Love is a Master Knave; aye! by far the greatest master of deceit in the three great worlds.  And woman is his aptest pupil, and every woman living, were she even as simple as thyself, becomes, as soon as she falls under the influence of Love, a very incarnation of policy and craft and wiles.  I tell thee, foolish boy, that she that loves in earnest, were she good as gold, pure as snow, and flawless as a diamond, would plunge, to gain her object, to the very lowest bottom of the ocean of deceit.  And what is her object but the esteem of her lover?  Dost thou think, she would balance for an instant, between her lover, and the ruin of the world? between his good opinion, and a lie?  Dost thou think, she would forfeit thy esteem, when to deceive thee would preserve it?  I tell thee, in such a dilemma, she would lie, till the very sun at noon hid his face out of shame.  Know[20], that long ago there lived at Waranasi[21] an independent lady, of beauty so extraordinary, that swarms of lovers use to buzz continually about her like great black bees about the mango blossom in the spring.  But independent though she was, she was so fastidious, that none of her innumerable lovers ever touched her heart even for a moment.  And hence she lived