110 
Ecstasy master of circumstance. 
 
 
 
XXIX 
 
THE MIRAGE 
 
 
Thou art perfect, Habib, in love ;  for yesterday 
when as a test of thy virtue I had thee beaten by 
the eunuchs, there was no cry of pain. 
Entirely lost in our love, thy knowledge was only 
of my member, and not of the blows ;  nor could 
any application of the staves, however vigorous, 
take away from thee that delight thou hast in me. 
Thou wast indeed unconscious of thy beating, 
crying only :  “ Press harder and deeper, O mas-
ter ! ”, though my member was entirely remote from 
thy podex, being engulphed in the ambitious and 
muscular twat of a certain concubine with splendid 
breasts like erect members1 so firm were they. 
Such mirage, if it be mirage, is truer than truth, 
if it be truth. 
Nothing can shake thee in love, any more than 
any affliction touches the Sufi.  It is therefore of no 
service that I restore to thy sweet podex its accus-
tomed guest. 
Whether it be there or not, it is there for 
thee2 ;  so that thou wilt never again bemoan thy-
self, saying :  “ Give me my Nubian !  for without 
stiffness is the contemptible member of El Qahar 
the sage.” 
 
 
 
1.  I have seen such women in Tehuantepee, 
Moharbhanj, and other places.  But even an Eng-
lish woman acquires the human figure if deprived