The fox-maiden again appeared before him, this time clad only in the soft moon-whiteness of her adorable body, so that he turned away his face from the sight of it. Asked she: “Have I kept my fox-word?” And he answered, stammering: “Eight hundred times! Today I am the richest man in these parts.” Said she: “Look upon me. Wouldst thou not posses me as thy concubine?” Then, peeping despite himself betwixt his fingers, he beheld the clear and lovely luster of her satiny skin, her breasts like twin snow-hillocks, her bending waist, and the sweet hidden curves of her thighs, and all his senses clamored like bells, so that he covered his eyes with his sleeve. And said he: “O generous bestower! Forgive the unspeakable meanness of this degraded nonentity. My descendants to the tenth generation shall burn richest incense before the golden shrine which I shall presently erect to thee. But I am a man and thou art a fox, with whom I may not knowingly consort without deadly sin!”
There’s a fox in the garden, your Imperial Majesty, and it is seducing your husband-to-be!













