 What does Dunbar mean in calling the other stars 'Jezebels' of stars?
TO EACH HIS STAR by BRYCE WALTON "Nothing around those other suns but ashes and dried blood," old Dunbar told the space-wrecked, desperate men. How could they believe in his choice when every star in this forsaken section of space was surrounded by a beckoning red rim? Dunbar, the oldest of the four, an old space-buster with a face wrinkled like a dried prune, burned by cosmic rays and the suns of worlds so far away they were scarcely credible, had taken command. Four men, thought Russell, held together by an invisible string of gravity, plunging through a lost pocket of hell's dark where there had never been any sound or life, with old Dunbar the first in line, taking the lead because he was older and knew where he was and where he was going. Russell had no idea now how long the four of them had been plunging toward the red-rimmed sun that never seemed to get any nearer. Compared with the universe in which one of them drifted, a wrecked ship was a lot smaller than a grain of sand on a nice warm beach back on Earth, or one of those specks of silver dust that floated like strange seeds down the night winds of Venus. When the four of them had escaped from that prison colony on a sizzling hot asteroid rock in the Ronlwhyn system, that wasn't enough for Dunbar. no—Dunbar had to start talking about a place they could go where they'd never be apprehended, in a system no one else had ever heard of, where they could live like gods on a green soft world like the Earth had been a long time back. That's what all four of them had been trying to find all their lives in the big cold grabbag of eternity—a rich star, a rich far fertile star where no one else had ever been, loaded with treasure that had no name, that no one had ever heard of before. No one for God only knew how many of millions of light years away could see or care. "You're still sure it's the sun up ahead ... "No life, boys, nothing," Dunbar laughed. I remember those four suns all spotted to form a perfect circle from this point, with us squarely in the middle. "Paradise and there we'll be like gods, like Mercuries with wings flying on nights of sweet song. They're Jezebels of stars. All painted up in the darkness and pretty and waiting and calling and lying!
 They are seductive, but ultimately, unworthy of pursuit
 They are uncomely on the exterior, but thriving within  They are designed to lure men to their deaths  They are meant to distract travelers from their main focus  They are seductive, but ultimately, unworthy of pursuit