She holds it up in different lights and
tries to con its mystery.
At night she leaves her bed, lights a lamp, and gazes at it from all points
of view.
This is the first time she has met with something without meaning.
On the next day the man is again near the well.
The girl asks, "What do you want?"
"To do more work for you."
"What work?" she enquires.
"Allow me to weave coloured strands into a ribbon to bind your hair."
"Is there any need?" she asks.
"None whatever," he allows.
The ribbon is made, and thence-forward she spends a great deal of time over
her hair.
The even stretch of well-employed time in that Paradise begins to show
irregular rents.
The elders are troubled; they meet in council.
The guide confesses his blunder, saying that he has brought the wrong man
to the wrong place.
The wrong man is called. His turban, flaming with colour, shows plainly how
great that blunder has been.
The chief of the elders says, "You must go back to the earth."
The man heaves a sigh of relief: "I am ready.
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