f her eyes, foreseeing as she did
another attempt on Shatrunjaya, which she could not avert. And my
heart was grieved at her death at the hands of a lover whose life she
had saved, and would have saved again if she could. For she was worth
far more than he.

And the Daughter of the Snow said: But what was she doing with such a
multitude of lovers at all?

And Maheshwara said: Thou art like Shatrunjaya himself, biased against
her by the insinuations of Haridasa, and the discreditable behaviour
of that little liar Chaturika, who betrayed her as well as others, and
by the idle talk of the people, which she rightly compared herself to
the croaking of so many frogs. For low people always put the very
worst interpretation upon the actions of kings, and especially of
queens, of whom all the time they know less than nothing, exactly as
she said. And Shatrunjaya's opinion of her wavered, in spite of all
his worship, being coloured by the scandal that he heard, so that he
saw her through its mist, as strangers always do. And if she had too
many lovers, it was all the fault of the Creator, who endowed her with
such fascination, combined with the kindness of her heart: since she
blamed herself for their misery, and could not bear to send them away
without making them as it were some reparation for her crime of being
beautiful beyond all resistance. And this was her only fault.

Then said the Mountain-born, with emphasis: I hate her: for a woman
should confine herself to one.

And Maheshwara said, looking at her with affection: Ah! Snowy One,
thou art right, and thou art wrong. For not every woman is a
counterpart of thee. And moreover, to be rigidly inaccessible[39] is
terribly hard, when a woman is as she was, a very incarnation of
bewildering intoxication, and kind into the bargain. For then she
resembles a fortress, besieged night and day and mined everlastingly
by innumerable hosts absolutely determined to get in; and sleepless
indeed must be the garrison that guards it; and often it yields of
sheer weariness and fatigue, unable any longer to endure the strain.
And Tarawali was absolutely right when she said that her lovers drove
her, against her inclination, into the reputation of a lady of many
lovers, since they were all so infatuated by the very sight of her
that they never let her alone. For love that really finds its object
will face ten thousand deaths to reach it, and is very hard to repel.
And it laughs in utter s