Since Hindoo women, in spite of their altruistic training, are prevented by their lack of culture or virtue (the domestic virtuous women have no culture and the cultured bayaderes have no virtue) from rising to the heights of sentimental love, it would be hopeless to expect the amazingly selfish, unsympathetic and cruel men to do so, despite their intellectual culture.  Among all the seven hundred poems culled by Hala there are only two or three which even hint at the higher phases of love in masculine bosoms.  Inasmuch as No. 383 tells us that even “the male elephant, though tormented by great hunger, thinking of his beloved wife, allows the juicy lotos-stalk to wither in his trunk,” one could hardly expect of man less than the sentiment expressed in No. 576:  “He who has a faithful love considers himself contented even in misfortune, whereas without his love he is unhappy though he possess the earth.”  Another poem indicating that Hindoo men may share with women a strong feeling of amorous monopolism is No. 498: 

“He regards only her countenance, and she, too, is quite intoxicated at sight of him.  Both of them, satisfied with one another, act as if in the whole world there were no other women or men.”

But as a rule the men are depicted as being fickle, even more so than the women.  A frequent complaint of the girls is that the men forget whom they happen to be caressing and call them by another girl’s name.  More frequent still are the complaints of neglect or desertion.  One of these, No. 46, suggests the praises of night sung in the mediaeval legend of Tristan and Isolde: 

     “To-morrow morning, my beloved, the hard-hearted goes
     away—­so people say.  O sacred night! do lengthen so
     that there will be no morning for him.”

At first sight the most surprising and important of Hala’s seven hundred poems seems to be No. 567: 

     “Only over me, the iron-hearted, thunder, O cloud, and
     with all your might; be sure that you do not kill my
     poor one with the hanging locks.”

Here, for once, we have the idea of self-sacrifice—­only the idea, it is true, and not the act; but it indicates a very exceptional and exalted state for a Hindoo even to think of such a thing.  The self-reproach of “iron-hearted” tells us, however, that the man has been behaving selfishly and cruelly toward his sweetheart or wife, and is feeling sorry for a moment.  In such moments a Hindoo not infrequently becomes human, especially if he expects new favors of the maltreated woman, which she is only too willing to grant: 

     No. 85:  “While with the breath of his mouth he cooled
     one of my hands, swollen from the effect of his blow, I
     put the other one laughingly around his neck.”