The Damsel and the Sage | Page 7

the woman wants her
lover back, she had better first summon the other two."
For once the Damsel had nothing to say, and had no excuse to remain
longer in the cave.
The Sage, however, was not in the mind to let her go so soon, so he
began a question:
"Why do you caress that bird so much? It appears completely
indifferent to you. Surely that is waste of time?"
"It is agreeable to waste time," replied the Damsel.
"Upon an insensible object?"
"Yes."
"More so than if it returned your caresses?"
"Probably--there is the speculation. It might one day respond, while
certainly if it repaid warmly my love now, one day it would not.
Nothing lasts in this world. You have told me so yourself."
The Sage was nettled.
"Yes, there is one thing that lasts, that is friendship," he said.
"Friendship!" exclaimed the Damsel; "but that is not made up of
caresses. It does not make the heart beat."
"We were not talking of beating hearts," said the Sage, sententiously.
"Very well. Good-bye, then, Sage," laughed the Damsel. "You must
think of more stories for me before I come again."
And, continuing to caress the falcon, she walked away, stately and fair,

into the setting sun.
When she had gone the Sage wondered why there was no twilight that
evening, and why it had suddenly become night.
* * * * *
Most men prefer to possess something that the other men want.
* * * * *
It would be a peaceful world if we could only realize that the fever of
love is like other fevers. It comes to a crisis, and the patient either dies
or is cured. It cannot last at the same point forever.
* * * * *
The Damsel came back again next day. She had remarked, the day she
spent with him in the rain, that the Sage was not so old or so uncomely
as she had at first supposed. "If he were to shave off his beard and wear
a velvet doublet, he would look as well as many a cavalier of the
Court," she mused. And she called out before she reached the door:
"Sage, I have come back because I want to ask you just another
question. Will you not come out and sit in the sun while you answer?"
So the Sage advanced in a recalcitrant manner, but he would not sit
down beside her.
Then the Damsel began:
"A woman once possessed a ball of silk. It was of so fine and rare a
kind that, although of many thousand yards, it took up no space, and
she unwound it daily for her pleasure without any appreciable
difference in the size of the ball. At last she suddenly fancied she
perceived some alteration. It came upon her as a shock, but still she
continued to use the silk with the casual idea that a thing she had
employed so long must go on forever. Then again, in about a week,
there came another shock. The ball was certainly smaller, and felt cold

and hard and firm. The thought came to her, 'What if it should not be
silk all through and I have come to the end of matters? What shall I
do?' Now tell me, Sage, should the woman go on to the end and find
perhaps a stone? Or should she try to rewind the silk? Which is the best
course?"
The Damsel took up the Sage's staff, which he had dropped for the
moment, and with its point she drew geometrical figures in the sand.
But the sun made shadows with her eyelashes, and the Sage felt his
voice tremble, so he answered, tartly:
"That would depend upon the nature of the woman. If she continues to
unwind the silk she will certainly find a piece of adamant, which has
been cunningly covered with this rare, soft substance. If she tries to
rewind, she will discover the thread has become tangled, and the ball
can never again look smooth and even as before. She must choose
which she would prefer, a clean piece of adamant or an uneven ball of
silk."
"But that is no answer to my question," said the Damsel, pouting. "I
asked which must she do for the best."
"Neither is better nor worse!" replied the Sage with asperity. "And
there is no best."
"You are quite wrong, Sage," returned the Damsel. "There is a third
course. She can cut the thread and leave the ball as it is, a coating of
smooth silk still--and an undiscovered possibility inside."
"You are too much for me!" exclaimed the Sage in a fury. "Answer
your own questions, to begin with, in future! I will have no more of
you!" and he