The fairer femme hangs her head, and says: 'I failed.'
The hag takes her hand, and 'Fear not', croons the crone. The smooth and the swart, the white and the wrinkled, they press palm to palm. 'Another night always comes-' nearer now draws the elder dame. 'Men boldly make their bargains, but by women's wiles they break.'
The sweeter one wonders: 'What if he sees it through?'
Harsh the hag laughs. 'Love, if he honours thy Lord, I should delight to see't.' Delicate she strokes fair skin. 'Only fail thou not. Would thou I show the surest way?'