Vain his prayer, alas! vain also his invocation!  The mystic meaning of the holy text—­the sense of the Lotos, the sense of the Jewel—­had evaporated from the words, and their monotonous utterance now served only to lend more dangerous definition to the memory that tempted and tortured him. O the jewel in her ear! What lotos-bud more dainty than the folded flower of flesh, with its dripping of diamond-fire!  Again he saw it, and the curve of the cheek beyond, luscious to look upon as beautiful brown fruit.  How true the Two Hundred and Eighty-Fourth verse of the Admonitions!—­“So long as a man shall not have torn from his heart even the smallest rootlet of that liana of desire which draweth his thought toward women, even so long shall his soul remain fettered.”  And there came to his mind also the Three Hundred and Forty-Fifth verse of the same blessed book, regarding fetters: 

“In bonds of rope, wise teachers have said, there is no strength; nor in fetters of wood, nor yet in fetters of iron.  Much stronger than any of these is the fetter of concern for the jewelled earrings of women.”

“Omniscient Gotama!” he cried,—­“all-seeing Tathagata!  How multiform the Consolation of Thy Word! how marvellous Thy understanding of the human heart!  Was this also one of Thy temptations?—­one of the myriad illusions marshalled before Thee by Mara in that night when the earth rocked as a chariot, and the sacred trembling passed from sun to sun, from system to system, from universe to universe, from eternity to eternity?”

O the jewel in her ear! The vision would not go!  Nay, each time it hovered before his thought it seemed to take a warmer life, a fonder look, a fairer form; to develop with his weakness; to gain force from his enervation.  He saw the eyes, large, limpid, soft, and black as a deer’s; the pearls in the dark hair, and the pearls in the pink mouth; the lips curling to a kiss, a flower-kiss; and a fragrance seemed to float to his senses, sweet, strange, soporific,—­a perfume of youth, an odor of woman.  Rising to his feet, with strong resolve he pronounced again the sacred invocation; and he recited the holy words of the Chapter of Impermanency: 

“Gazing upon the heavens and upon the earth ye must say, These are not permanent.  Gazing upon the mountains and the rivers, ye must say, These are not permanent.  Gazing upon the forms and upon the faces of exterior beings, and beholding their growth and their development, ye must say, These are not permanent.”

And nevertheless! how sweet illusion!  The illusion of the great sun; the illusion of the shadow-casting hills; the illusion of waters, formless and multiform; the illusion of—­Nay, nay I what impious fancy!  Accursed girl! yet, yet! why should he curse her?  Had she ever done aught to merit the malediction of an ascetic?  Never, never!  Only her form, the memory of her, the beautiful phantom