beneath the window of love

A mandarin fell in love with a courtesan. "I shall be yours," she told him, "when you have spent a hundred
nights waiting for me, sitting on a stool, in my garden, beneath my window." But on the ninety-ninth night, the
mandarin stood up, put his stool under his arm, and went away.

from Barthes, from A Lover's Discourse: Fragments.


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