And he turned pale at the thought, that any other lover should, even a very little, have occupied her heart before him.  And he stood silent, and confused, striving to expel from his mind the doubt that Natabhrukuti had raised in it, saying to himself:  Can I really be only the last of many lovers?  And all the while, Natabhrukuti watched him, devouring him as it were with her eyes.  And at last, she said again:  Sweet boy, thou art too young and too honest to cope with women, who were framed by the Creator to deceive.  But Aja said angrily:  Thou art thyself a woman, seeking at this very moment to deceive me:  and as for thy age, it is less than my own.  And she said:  Nay, nay:  I am older, for I am wiser than thyself.  For when I see my husband, I remember him, but me thou hast utterly forgotten, thy true and only wife.  Ah! foolish one, thou hast forgotten.  And thou resemblest one, who casts away a costly jewel, for the sake of a bit of glass, shining only in the sunlight of thy ignorance, and trodden by the foot of every passing stranger.  What! can I do nothing to rouse thy recollection?  Look at me well! look hard, and it may be, something of me will touch as it were a chord in thy soul.

And she came up close to him, so that the warmth and fragrance of her beauty enveloped him like an atmosphere of intoxication.  And she joined her hands, looking up into his face, as it were compelling his reluctant admiration by her humble submission to his will.  And she said:  Hast thou, hast thou indeed forgotten all?  And as he gazed at her, two huge drops of crystal welled into her eyes, and hung poised before they fell on the net of her long dark lashes.  And she said:  Thou sayest, I am seeking to deceive thee.  I love thee, and where is the deception?  Is it not rather thou that art the deceiver in this matter?  Is it any fault of mine if another has stepped in to defraud me of thyself?  Or am I to be blamed, if thy beauty still beguiles me as it did long ago?  And yet, dost thou accuse me as if I were a criminal?  O blue black bee, what is this behaviour, that thou seekest as it were to pick a quarrel with the poor red lotus who loves thee but too well?  And she smiled through her tears, and exclaimed:  Ah I but in spite of thee, I will adore thee, whether thou wilt or no.  Ha! and I will compel thee to remember, and force my way through every barrier and obstacle till I reach the recollection[26] in the bottom of thy heart.  O canst thou not remember the days of long ago, when my now despised beauty was a joy to thee, and my hair a very net to snare thy willing soul, and my eyes were more to thee than any diamonds, and these two arms were thy prison and thy chain, and this agitated bosom was thy pillow on which I lulled thee to slumber with the music of this very voice.  Hast thou really forgotten the nectar of my kiss? hast thou actually forgotten thy own insatiable thirst?  Ah! but if thou hast forgotten, I have not; and the innumerable multitudes of thy too delicious kisses come back to me, singing in my memory, and whispering in my soul like the lisping of the sea.  Hark!  Dost thou not hear them also, those voices of a former birth?