If these stories were anything else than slyly planned object-lessons calculated to impress and subjugate the women, why is it that the husband is never chosen to act the self-sacrificing part?  He does, indeed, sometimes indulge in frantic outbursts of grief and maudlin sentimentality, but that is because he has lost the young woman who pleased his senses.  There is no sign of soul-love here; the husband never dreams of devoting his life to her, of sacrificing it for her sake, as she is constantly exhorted to do for his sake.  In a word, masculine selfishness is the keynote of Hindoo life.  “When in danger, never hesitate to sacrifice your goods and your wife to save your life,” we read in the Hitopadesa (25); and No. 4112 of Boehtlingk’s Hindu Maxims declares bluntly that a wife exists for the purpose of bearing sons, and a son for the purpose of offering sacrifices after his father’s death.  There we have masculine selfishness in a nutshell.  Another maxim declares that a wife can atone for her lack or loss of beauty by faithful subjection to her husband.  And in return for all the devotion expected of her she is utterly despised—­considered unworthy of an education, unfit even to profess virginity—­in a word, looked on “as scarcely forming a part of the human species.”  In the most important event in her life—­marriage—­her choice is never consulted.  The matter is, as we have seen, left to the family barber, or to the parents, to whom questions of caste and wealth are of infinitely more importance than personal preferences.  When those matters are arranged the man satisfies himself concerning the inclinations of the chosen girl’s kindred, and when assured that he will not “suffer the affront of a refusal” from them he proceeds with the offer and the bargaining.  “To marry or to buy a girl are synonymous terms in this country,” says Dubois (I., 198); and he proceeds, to give an account of the bargaining and the disgraceful quarrels this leads to.

BAYADERES AND PRINCESSES AS HEROINES

Under such circumstances the Hindoo playwrights must have found themselves in a curious dilemma.  They were sufficiently versed in the poetic art to build up a plot; but what chance for an amorous plot was there in a country where there was no courtship, where women were sold, ignored, maltreated, and despised?  Perforce the poets had to neglect realism, give up all idea of mirroring respectable domestic life, and take refuge in the realms of tradition, fancy, or liaisons.  It is interesting to note how they got around the difficulty.  They either made their heroines bayaderes, or princesses, or girls willing to be married in a way allowing them their own choice, but not reputed respectable.  Bayaderes, though not permitted to marry, were at liberty to choose their temporary companions.  Cudraka indulges in the poetic license of making Vasantasena superior to other bayaderes and rewarding her in the