"Be delicate, little wife-woman. Never be without your veil,
without many veils. Veil yourself in a thousand veils, all
shimmering and glittering with costly textures and precious
jewels. Never let the last veil be drawn. Against the morrow
array yourself with more veils, ever more veils, veils without
end. Yet the many veils must not seem many. Each veil must seem
the only one between you and your hungry lover who will have
nothing less than all of you. Each time he must seem to get all,
to tear aside the last veil that hides you. He must think so. It
must not be so. Then there will be no satiety, for on the morrow
he will find another last veil that has escaped him.

"Remember, each veil must seem the last and only one. Always you
must seem to abandon all to his arms; always you must reserve
more that on the morrow and on all the morrows you may abandon.
Of such is variety, surprise, so that your man's pursuit will be
everlasting, so that his eyes will look to you for newness, and
not to other women. It was the freshness and the newness' of your
beauty and you, the mystery of you, that won your man. When a man
has plucked and smelled all the sweetness of a flower, he looks
for other flowers. It is his queerness. You must ever remain a
flower almost plucked yet never plucked, stored with vats of
sweet unbroached though ever broached.

"Stupid women, and all are stupid, think the first winning of the
man the final victory. Then they settle down and grow fat, and
state, and dead, and heartbroken. Alas, they are so stupid. But
you, little infant-woman with your first victory, you must make
your love-life an unending chain of victories. Each day you must