Page:Chitra - Rabindranath Tagore.djvu/56



Ah, but she is not beautiful. She has no such lovely eyes as mine, dark as death. She can pierce any target she will, but not our hero’s heart.

They say that in valour she is a man, and a woman in tenderness.

That, indeed, is her greatest misfortune. When a woman is merely a woman; when she winds herself round and round men’s hearts with her smiles and sobs and services and caressing endearments; then she is happy. Of what use to her are learning and great achievements? Could you have seen her only yesterday in the court of the Lord Shiva’s temple by the forest path, you would have passed by without deigning to look