The wife knows her partner has tried to quit but is always lured back by the seductive scent of tobacco. She envisions this temptress dancing on the terrace, calling her husband outside to indulge in the splendor, to become stimulated by a token tossed at his feet, that "blossom of embers", that treasured flower of menthol and nicotine.
And as she reflects on this influence, she realizes no blame should be issued toward the man or no love lessened because of his need to smoke. It's intense, addictive and very much like the need she has for him. Her own affection is rooted in a sacred passion to belong to him, to feel the hunger and dependency that deep emotion can command.
In fact, she concludes that she has inhaled this desire for him and never wishes for its ache or joy to dissipate like the poignant echo of prayer bells fading in the twilight.