The Damsel and the Sage | Page 3

done quickly," growled the Sage, averting his head. The Damsel had an outline against the sky which caused ideas not tranquillizing for Hermits.
"I wish to know why a man who possessed the most beautiful and noble Bird of Paradise--a bird of rare plumage and wonderful qualities--should suddenly see more beauty in an ordinary Cockatoo, whose only attraction was its yellow feathers--a Cockatoo that screamed monotonously as it swung backward and forward on its perch, and would eat sugar out of the hand of any stranger while it cried 'Pretty Poll.' The man could not afford to buy this creature also, so he deliberately sold his exquisite Bird of Paradise to a person called Circumstance and with the money became the possessor of the Cockatoo, who pierced the drums of his ears with its eternal 'Pretty Poll' and wearied his sight with its yellow feathers. Why did the man do this?"
The Sage laughed at so simple a question.
"Because he was a man, and even a screaming Cockatoo belonging to some one else has more charm at times than the most divine Bird of Paradise belonging to himself."
"But was it worth while to sell this rare thing for a very ordinary one?" demanded the Damsel.
"Certainly not," said the Sage, impatiently. "What childish questions you ask! The thing was a folly on the face of it; but, as I said before, he was a man--and the Cockatoo belonged to some one else!"
"Then what will happen now?" asked the Damsel, placing herself in the direction in which the Sage had turned his head.
"The Bird of Paradise will still be the most beautiful and glorious and desirable bird in the world; and when the man realizes he has lost it forever he will begin to value its every feather, and will spend his days in comparing all its remembered perfections and advantages with the screams and the yellow feathers of the Cockatoo."
"And what will the Cockatoo do?" inquired the Damsel.
"It will probably continue to shriek 'Pretty Poll,' and eat sugar out of the hand of any stranger," replied the Sage, plucking his heard.
"And the man?"
"The man will go on telling every one he has bought the most divine bird in the world, in the hope that some one will offer him a large sum of money for it. The only person who gains in the affair is the Bird of Paradise, who, instead of being caged as when in the possession of the man, is absolutely free to fly with its new master, Circumstance, who only seeks to please and soothe this glorious bird and make life fair for it."
"But what will be the very end?" persisted the Damsel.
The Sage turned and looked full at her. He was angry with her importunity and would have answered sternly.
Then he saw that the ripples of her hair were golden and his voice softened.
"That will depend--upon Circumstance," he replied, and he closed his door softly in her face.
* * * * *
A man wishes and a woman wishes, but Circumstance frequently wins the game.
* * * * *
Life is short--avoid causing yawns.
* * * * *
It is possible for a woman to retain the amorous affection of a man for many years--if he only sees her for the two best hours out of each twenty-four.
* * * * *
"Please open the door, Sage," entreated the Damsel, "and I will tell you a story."
The Sage pushed it ajar with his foot, but he did not come out.
"There was once upon a time a man," she said, "who unexpectedly and for no apparent reason became the possessor of a Tiger. It had been coveted by numbers of people and was of a certain value and beauty. It had an infinite variety of tricks. It was learned in caresses. It was fierce, and gentle, and it could love passionately. Altogether a large price would have been offered the man for it by many others if he had wished to sell it. In the beginning he had greatly valued the possession of this strange beast, and had fed it with his own hand. The little anxiety as to whether it would eat him or not, or rush away, had kept him interested. But gradually, as he became certain the Tiger adored him, and would show none but velvet claws and make only purring sounds, his keenness waned. He still loved it, but certainty is monotonous, and his eyes wandered to other objects. 'The Tiger is nothing but a domestic cat,' he said; 'I will pet and caress it when the mood takes me, and for the rest of the time it can purr to itself by the fire.' At last one day, after the Tiger was especially gracious and had purred with all essence of love, the man yawned. 'It is really