And when he entered the arbour once more, and saw her again, this time, at the very sight of her, his heart trembled with delight, saying to itself, as if with relief: Ah! she is still there. And she was standing almost exactly in the attitude in which she stood before, save only, that she was not quite so close to the brink of the abyss. But she made a step towards it, as he entered, turning, and taking, as it were, her stand beside it, as much as to say: Here is my friend, and my defender, and my refuge. And all the surprise had vanished from her face: and instead of it, the eyes, with which she looked at him in doubt, were full of dark suspicion and distrust, mixed with apprehension. And they watched him, with close attention, as if she expected that, like a panther, he might make a sudden spring upon her, before she could escape. And she seemed to say to him, with silent alarm and indignation: What! has he actually returned? Ha! it is as I feared. And now, my only refuge lies at the very bottom of the gorge.
And then, as if afraid lest she should put her threat into execution, out of terror, before he could prevent her, the King said hastily: O mountain maiden, do not be afraid, to see me return: for I have done so, only because I was ashamed, first, for having broken in upon thy privacy, and then again, still more, for having left thee so abruptly, without explaining or excusing my intrusion. And if I am guilty, I am not without excuse: nor myself the one to blame: since I was brought here by the minister, Yogeshwara, who told me to expect in this arbour the arrival of the Guru of the King. And being an utter stranger, I know not, if I go away alone, whither to turn my steps. But in any case, I do adjure thee, to dismiss thy apprehension: since thou hast absolutely no occasion at all for alarm.
And while he spoke, she stood, listening, with suspicion, to his apology: and when he finished, all at once, she turned upon him like a fury, and exclaimed, stamping her little foot upon the ground: And how dared Yogeshwara bring thee to my arbour? Did I not refuse, when he begged me to lend it him, and yet, has he had the audacity to borrow it, against my will? and use it, as an inn, for passing strangers? And as the King stood, aghast, amazed at the sudden storm of indignation that fell upon him, like a traveller overtaken by a thundercloud, yet all the while wondering at the beauty of the lightning threatening to strike him, all at once, recollection suddenly brought into his mind, what Yogeshwara had said to him, just before he went away. And he murmured to himself: Apparently the owner of this arbour, notwithstanding Yogeshwara's diligence, is before me after all, and certainly this arbour is, as it seems, the very last place to which I should have come. And as he thought, all at once she said to him, with irritation: And who then art thou, whom he has placed here, as if on purpose to disturb me, and terrify me and annoy me?
And as the King looked at her, he said to himself: Now I shall pay for Yogeshwara's impertinence. And I feel like a culprit before her, and yet, somehow or other, her anger is delightful, like that of a child whose toy is broken, about to fly into a passion with anyone it sees. And he said: O maiden, be not angry with the innocent. For I am only Chand the son of Chand, arrived here this very morning on a visit of importance to thy King.
And as he spoke, she started with surprise: and then all at once, as he watched her, all her anger suddenly disappeared. And a smile, like that of one who recollects, crept over her face: and she dropped all her flowers upon the floor, and began to clap her hands. And she exclaimed: Ha! now I remember, and who else could it be? And I wonder that I did not think of it before: since they say, King Chand is a giant, and thy size is, as it were, thy guarantee, and the proof of thy words. And now, then, I will solve thy problem, in the matter of this arbour, by instantly going away myself, and leaving it to thee: to await by thyself the arrival of the Guru: for as to Yogeshwara, he shall learn another time, the danger of employing my arbour as an inn.
And instantly, she drew her veil around her face,[11] and came very quickly towards him, to pass by him, and escape by the door. But Chand put out his hand, as though to stop her, exclaiming: O daughter of King Mitra, for I cannot doubt that thou art she, I should be altogether inexcusable, if I came here only to deprive thee, and as it were, expel thee from thy arbour by my coming. See now, I will myself depart the very moment that the Guru arrives: and in the meantime, wilt thou not dismiss thy alarm and indignation, and suffer me to remain with thee, till he appears?
And as he spoke, Yogeshwara in his ambush exclaimed in delight: Ha! I did her wrong, and she is very clever. For now she has brought him to the point of begging for permission to remain, never dreaming, that that is exactly what she wishes him to do herself. And I thought that she had driven him away: but she, like a skilful angler, knew, that the hook was already in the jaws of her royal fish.
V
So as the King spoke, with imploring eyes, and entreaty in his voice, she turned suddenly towards him, and began as it were to examine him, with curiosity and amazement. And after a while she said, as if with incredulity: Have my own ears turned traitors, and is it now, that they are playing me false, or was it then, when, as I thought, I heard thee name thyself King Chand the son of Chand? And Chand said: Nay, but I am actually he. And she laughed scornfully, and exclaimed: Art thou absolutely sure, that thou hast not mistaken thy identity? Can it be, that thou art really Chand? For I have heard, that of all companions in the world, women are those from whom he most desires to escape.
And she looked at him awhile, with eyes, of which he could not tell, whether that which filled their blue was disbelief or derision or amusement; and all at once, she turned away, and went back to her basket, and began once more to busy herself about its flowers, kneeling down beside it. And after a while, she turned her head towards him, and said, shooting at him a glance out of the very corner of her eye: King Chand has my permission, if he chooses, to remain, till the Guru arrives: and in the meanwhile, I crave his permission to return to my work among my flowers, in which his uninvited entrance interrupted me: since such a thing as I am is not fit for such a hero as is he: nor can it be supposed that conversation such as mine could possibly amuse him. And yet, would the King deign to be advised by such a thing as me, he would go instantly away, without losing any time: for there is danger in remaining.
And Chand said: Where, and of what nature is the danger? And as he spoke, she turned round, and bent her great blue eyes upon him, with her two lips closed, as though determined not to smile, almost into a ball, so that they exactly resembled a ripebimbafruit. And she seemed as it were to say to him: Dost thou not recognise, who is the danger? And after a while, she turned away, saying: The danger is, that King Chand may utterly wreck his reputation for misogyny, by betraying an inclination for the society of women. For I think that his friends in the plains would be very much astonished; if they knew that he had actually gone so far as to return of his own accord to an arbour, out of which the unsuspected and abominable presence of one of that insignificant and useless sex had originally driven him.
And then she sat in silence, stealing at him every now and then glances from eyes he could not see, that resembled soft flashes of lightning in the form of blue and silent laughter, from under the long lashes which as he watched her he could see standing out from her round soft cheek like the roof of a house. And though she never laughed, he knew that she was laughing at him, by that very cheek, from which he could not take his eyes, resembling as it did a very incarnation of round, soft, delicious, unpunishable impertinence, that attracted him with so irresistible a longing for its owner that he could hardly breathe. And yet he was filled with shame, and confusion, and rage against himself, and also against her; and all the while he felt, that his anger against her was as it were impotent and helpless, for his soul began as it were to turn traitor to him, going over in spite of himself to her side. And so he stood, gazing at her in wrath that was mixed with a smile of delight, utterly unable either to say or to do anything at all. And he strove to be offended with her, in vain, in spite of the shame and exasperation that she was pouring into his heart. And so as he stood, like a picture of wounded pride and helpless irresolution, all at once, she looked round, and as it were caught him unawares, standing at her mercy, abashed and ashamed, the very target of her mocking eyes. And utterly unable to endure it any longer, he suddenly turned and ran out of the arbour, as if he were escaping from a foe.
VI
And then, strange! hardly had he gone a few steps from the terrace, when again his feet stopped, as if utterly refusing to carry him away. And he stood, burning with shame, and anger, and yet unable to move. And he thought no longer, as at first, of her beauty, but simply of herself: and he was absolutely miserable, feeling that somehow or other she had mastered him; and his soul was filled to the very brim with nothing but her, and as it were kept on repeating obstinately, she, she, she, as if her personality had filled it to the exclusion of his own. Alas! by reason of his youth and inexperience he was all unaware, that the poison of Love was in his heart, and beginning to work. And she danced as it were before his eyes, and whirled all round him, and sat in his soul, and seized upon it and its faculties and senses, and it was as though the world had vanished, leaving in its place nothing but a void, composed of a blue that was the very substance of herself. And so he stood, still, like one torn by strong chains in opposite directions, determined to go away, and yet never moving, and ashamed to go back, and yet drawn by an irresistible spell, that whispered as it were in his ear: Return: return. And so he stood a long while, as utterly unconscious of everything around him, as if he had become a tree, fanned by the wind.
And at last, he turned, and went back, very slowly, with sad and heavy feet, that moved, as if they were carrying a guilty criminal to his own execution. And when he reached the arbour door, again he stopped, and stood irresolutely near it, looking out over the valley, like one paralysed by his own indecision. And then at length, unable to endure the separation from her any longer, he said to himself with a sigh: Now everything is quiet: and doubtless, she has utterly forgotten all about me, thinking me gone, not again to return. And now no doubt she will be working with her flowers, just as she was at first, and with her back towards me. Therefore, if I stoop down, very carefully, making no noise, I shall be able to watch her, unobserved. And he stooped, stealthily, and peeped round the edge of the door.
And lo! when he looked, she also was standing, stooping, almost exactly like himself, on the other side, close to the door, and leaning forward eagerly, with a great bunch of flowers in one hand, and the other stretched, like a creeper, bowing in the wind of excitement, a little way before her, watching, as if with eager desire, to see him return. And when, all at once, their eyes met, she stood a little while looking at him exactly like a child in the extremity of delight. And all at once, she began to laugh, with low, long, joyous and unrestrainable laughter, that went on and on, sounding in his ears like the murmur of a waterfall, and seeming as though it would never stop. And the King, reduced as he was to the very lowest depth of utter shame, and blushing, till the very hair seemed to stand up upon his head, found as it were a refuge in his very desperation. And he said to himself: I care not, for now I am at the very bottom of the abyss of shame: and let her laugh, if she will, at me, or anything in the three worlds: so only that I listen to her, and am here, to look at her again.
And at last, she said, with her laughter still hanging as it were in the music of her voice: O King Chand, if thou art really he, come in, since as it appears, thou absolutely must, for I have a question to put to thee. And the King entered, like a culprit, and stood looking at her like one ready to submit to any punishment she chose. And she came towards him and stood, with her two little bare feet exactly together, side by side, and her two hands clasped behind her back, and her head thrown right back upon her shoulders to look up at him, so that her two small breasts jutted out like round bosses on the edge of the delicious terrace of her throat. And she said: Maháráj, wilt thou, to whom all women are equally contemptible, only tell me, for I am curious to know, why thou art so utterly unable to go away from this arbour of mine? Is it these flowers that attract thee? For here there is absolutely nothing other than these flowers, and myself.
And as she spoke, her small mouth, that resembled the incarnate fragrance and colour of a flower, with its two intoxicating lips parted in the curl of a smile, just over the leaf-like point of her small soft chin, bewildered him so, that he could hardly listen to the meaning of her words. And he stammered, and hesitated, and said: I came, because I had nowhere else to go. Then she said: And why, then, didst thou go away at all? And suddenly he said: I went, in order to escape, alas! from thee. And she said, shaking her head slowly from side to side: Nay, not from me, but it may be, from thyself. Art thou sure that it is not thy own self, from which thou art vainly endeavouring to escape? Dost thou know thyself so well, as to be certain what it is, that thou art shunning or desiring? Stand, now, there a little while, and examine for thyself thy condition, while I finish my work.
VII
And as she spoke, once more she went back to her flowers. And she dragged her great basket, with difficulty, to the very edge of the cliff, and knelt, sitting on her own feet, beside it. And taking out its flowers, one by one, she began rapidly and skilfully to weave them in a garland, crooning to herself all the while a kind of song, in a voice so low as to be all but inaudible. And she paid absolutely no attention to the King at all, wholly absorbed as it seemed in her work, and ignoring his presence altogether. And every now and then, she took a flower, and held it up before her, speaking as it were to it, before she wove it in among its fellows; and now and then she looked, with attention, at a flower, and as if condemning it, threw it away into the valley. So she continued, weaving, and muttering as it were a spell. And all the while she swayed to and fro, a very little, as if keeping time to her own unintelligible song.
And so as she sat and wove, the King stood watching her, leaning against the door-post, with his arms folded, absolutely still. And he resembled a rock, against which the sea of her beauty came beating, wave after wave, as if to shake it from its base. And his soul went travelling, by the means of his eye, slowly and carefully about her, like a painter. And like a bee, it hovered about the flower of her moving lips, and flew circling all about the slowly moving curve of her bosom, and wandered in and out about her slender waist, lost, as she sat kneeling, in the folds of her heavy limbs, and then rose and repeated its journey, ending where it first began, and going round and round her, as if unable to go away. And as he gazed, he became as it were himself a sea, and began as it were to surge in agitation, under the soft mysterious attraction of that moonlike mass of grace and symmetry and curve and colour, floating as it seemed before him in the air, on the edge of that cliff. And all the while, there was silence in the arbour, broken only by the low sound of the singing of the King's daughter. And in that silence, the humming of the bees outside came, every now and then, drifting in upon the breeze, that carried also the scent of the blossoms of the trees, and floated about the King, charming at once by a double spell, like billows of the essence of intoxication rolling in on his already intoxicated soul. And he heard the wind below in the valley sweep sighing among its trees, and now and then, the note of the wild pigeon calling to his wife. So he stood, wrapped in a dream, lifted as it were on that cloud-loved terrace above the world, and bathing in the nectar-poison of the nervous apprehension of pure passion that was absolutely lost, in the ecstasy of self-annihilation, in its object, the maiden form before him, singing and swaying as she wove.
And then, at last, she finished her work, and stopped. And she stood up, and took the garland she had made, and laid it carefully aside, in a corner. And then she turned towards him, and pointed with her finger to the marble seat that ran like a long bench all along the arbour wall. And the King instantly went and took his seat, as if obeying her commands, upon it, while she returned and remained, half sitting, half kneeling, beside her basket with fragments of flowers all around her, and her two hands joined together on her lap.
VIII
And at that moment, there came a great eagle, that passed in the air close beside them, and flew away over the valley. And seeing him, she said: O King Chand, would thy friends below believe him, were he to fly down and tell them, he had seen thee sitting on a mountain cliff, conversing with a woman! Then said Chand with a sigh: Art thou indeed a woman, and not rather some mountain witch that has destroyed me by a spell? For it is but a moment since first I entered this enchanted arbour, and already I am changed, into something other than I was: and short as it has been, yet that moment has contained within it as it were the power of years of alteration. Then she said: If this arbour of mine has wrought a change in thee, to thy dissatisfaction, surely the fault was all thy own, for coming in, and thrusting thyself upon me, as it were, not once alone, but many times, not by my invitation, but of thy own accord. Blame, therefore, thyself alone, if thou hast suffered, by reason of thy intrusion, a change for the worse. And the King said hastily: I said not that the change was for the worse, but only, that I had undergone a change. Then she said: But if, then, thy change is for the better, of what art thou complaining? Surely thou art in that case a gainer, by me and by my arbour. And he said: Nay, neither did I say that the change was for the better. And she laughed, and exclaimed: What! canst thou not even tell, whether this extraordinary change that has befallen thee is good or bad? Dost thou, then, not even know, which to prefer, thy former condition, or thy present? And he said: No. Then she said: Of what nature, then, is this inexplicable change, that leaves thee neither better, nor worse, nor even yet the same, but something indeterminate, of which thou canst give no account at all? And the King remained silent, with his eyes fixed upon her face.
So then, after a while, she said softly: Come now, shall I come to thy assistance, and like a physician, probe for thee thy soul, and show thee, what thou canst not unriddle for thyself? Art thou not angry with thyself, and only for this reason, that thou art beginning to doubt, whether, after all, a woman is exactly only what thou hast hitherto determined to consider her? Say, is it not so? And thy confidence in thyself wavers, and thy soul is endeavouring to make, if possible, someone else, rather than thyself, culpable for the wound given to thy vanity? And the King exclaimed, as if stung by her words: Did I not say, thou wert a witch? Then she said: What need is here of any witchcraft? Art thou not, by thine own avowal, Chand, and who is there that has not heard alike of Chand's delight in war, and his antipathy to my sex? And she paused a moment, and she said: Come now; since fortune and thy own insistence have cast thee for a moment in my way, and this Guru seems long in making his appearance, shall I in the interval do battle against thee, for myself and for my sisters? Thou art fond of battles: art thou ready to try thy fortune in this field?
And the King said in confusion: Nay, for the combatants in this case are unevenly equipped.
Then she laughed ironically, and exclaimed: What! Chand! and afraid of a combat with a woman! Shall I compare thee, then, to a general who has long ago taken up a position of which he boasts loudly as impregnable, yet dare not expose it to the test? And all at once she leaned towards him, and said, with a smile, in a tone of irresistible sweetness: Come, bring thy charges against me, one by one, and I will do what I can, in my weakness,[12] to refuse and repel them.
And as she spoke, Yogeshwara said to himself, within his ambush: Ha! now, let us see what he will say. And well did he object, that the combat was uneven, and its result, a foregone conclusion. For this crafty little daughter of a King knows just as well as he does, that she is herself the formidable argument, against which he has not only no weapons of attack, but absolutely no defence at all. And even before the battle has begun, she has annihilated all his force beforehand, by that bewildering glance from those blue irrefutable eyes, which stealing into his heart, have bribed and corrupted it, making it her own ally, and a traitor to himself.
IX
So, then, as she leaned towards him, with her head a little on one side, and her neck a little curved, and her eyes a little closed, and her lips a little parted in a caressing smile, the appeal of her soft entreating beauty struck the King so hard, that in his agitation, his tongue refused to speak. And just as if it had heard what Yogeshwara had said, his heart, drawn towards her through his eyes, deserted him, and going over to the enemy, nestled like a fugitive bird in the little hollow between the twin wave of her breast, saying as it were: Here will I dwell, close to her own, rocked to sleep on the rise and fall of this gentle sea. And he looked at her in silence, overcome with his own emotion, and at last he said with difficulty: Did I not say that I was changed? For but a little while ago, before I entered this magic arbour, my mind was made completely up, with reference to thy sex, and I could have told thee I know not how many unanswerable reasons for condemning it: but now my soul is in confusion, and as I look at thee, I cannot bring against it any arguments at all. Aye! who could bring a charge of any kind against such a thing as thee?
And as he sighed, she said, with gaiety: Ha! does the enemy surrender, before even so much as attempting an attack? And what can have been the strength of a fortress, which its garrison abandons at the very sign of danger?
But the King, for answer, leaned his chin upon his hand, that rested on his knee, and gazed at her in silence, for so long, that the smile died away upon her lips, and she dropped her eyes upon the ground. And all at once he said: As I look at thee, my weapons of arguments seem as it were to bend and become blunted, and even to crumble to pieces in my hand: and I resemble one in a dream, fighting in vain with a phantom sword, that turns to water or disappears whenever he attempts to strike a blow. For I used to think, that women were weak, and worthless in the day of battle, and so it is: and yet, looking at thee, weak as thou art, for I could crush thee in a moment, I would not have thee other than just the thing thou art, and thy very weakness seems, I know not how, to be a merit and a virtue in thee, and stronger than my strength; and in thy case, the very notion of a battle seems utterly abominable, and ludicrous, and out of place. And again, I used to think that a woman was a burden, and as I look at thee, I think that thou art a burden I would willingly carry, for as long as my strength would endure. And women's voices seemed to me made only for chattering and scolding, but thine is a music, strange, and soft, and unimaginably beautiful, that plays upon my heart, and gladly would I listen to it for ever, never so much as noting the passage of any time. And but yesterday I would have told thee, a woman was a traitor, but to-day, looking at thy soul in the colour of thine eyes, I doubt not women, but myself. For they seem to me like two great black tanks, filled with unearthly liquid drawn from some deep Pátála well, where ocean mixes with the azure of the skies. And but an hour ago, I would have told thee, a woman was an ugly little thing, a deformity of man, in every point inferior to him: but as I look at thee, remorse comes over me, and horror, as I recollect and shudder at my crime, and I see that I resemble one blaspheming a divinity that ought rather to be worshipped and adored. For I am but a clod, and a coarse and rough and rude misshapen lump, compared with thee, and every morsel of thy fairy figure, from thy masses of dark hair to the sole of thy little foot, fills me with agitation and feeling that I cannot utter, and fierce desire as it were to devour thee, and thirst to drink of thy unutterable loveliness, that increases as I watch thee till I am likely to die of its intolerable sting. For I am burning as if with fire, and I know not what to do. And but an hour ago, I thought my soul a strong tower, but as I look at thee, struck by a stroke of lightning in the form of thy little figure, it has all tumbled to pieces, and lies in black miserable ruin at thy feet.
X
And the King's voice trembled a little, as he spoke: and when he ended, she remained silent a little while, while the colour came and went upon her cheek. And at last, she laughed a little laugh, and she looked, not at him, but away into the valley, as she said: Nay, but this is a thing altogether incredible and strange. For King Chand, instead of attacking women, has suddenly become, on the contrary, their partisan. And yet I think, that his partisanship is greatly to be distrusted, even more than his old uncompromising enmity. For just as formerly he utterly despised and denounced all women without exception, never having had anything to do with even one: so now he suddenly becomes their champion, on the evidence of only a single instance, seen only for a single instant. And so his new opinions seem even more suspicious, and will probably be still more rapidly evanescent, than his old.
And Chand said hastily: I swear to thee, that my mind is made up on this matter for ever, never again to waver, even for an instant. Thou art——But she interrupted him, holding up at him her forefinger, with a smile. And she exclaimed: O King, is it good policy, in matters of war, for a warrior to stake his life on so momentary a glimpse of his enemy? Stay, was that a footstep that I heard? And she listened for a moment, bending round in an attitude that almost broke the King's heart as he watched her, exclaiming within himself: O that the King's Guru were only at the bottom of the sea!
And hearing absolutely nothing, but the sighing of the wind, after a while, she turned once more towards the King, and she said, playfully: Must I, then, remind thee, that all this while, thou art merely an Intruder, present only by my sufferance and condescension, and that though it has come about, I know not how, that thou art actually sitting here talking to me, in an arbour where no other has ever come but me, yet, that should the Intruder become forgetful of his true position, he will be immediately expelled?
And hearing her speak, Yogeshwara in his ambush exclaimed within himself: Ha! wonderful beyond imagination is the craft of women, and above all, of the one before me! For now, so far is he from dreaming that he was brought here expressly for her purpose, that she has convinced him that he is an interloper, indebted to her grace, and she has even filled him with the nectar of unutterable delight, by allowing him to suppose that she permits him to remain!
XI
But in the meanwhile, the King exclaimed piteously: O daughter of King Mitra, well indeed I know, that I am only an intruder: out upon me, if I was tempted to forget it, even for a moment! And yet I was not without excuse, for how could I remember anything whatever, with a mind bewildered by the colour of thy great eyes? But now, I will swear to keep myself within any bound or limit that thou choosest to impose, so only that thou dost not bid me go away. For then I could not answer for myself, and sorely indeed should I be tempted to disobey thee, though I long for nothing so much, as to obey any orders whatever, so only that they are thine.
And she said: On these terms, I will allow thee to remain: though, should I perceive any symptom of disobedience, I shall immediately go away myself: as in any case, I must do, as soon as the Guru has arrived.
And the King said, carelessly: There is no longer need for any Guru, for I have altogether changed my mind, on the matter which he was commissioned to discuss.
And then, she laughed joyfully, and exclaimed: Aha! O King, much I fear, that thou, who but an hour ago, wast ready to bring charges of lightness and frivolity against every member of my sex, art thyself more changeful and inconstant than any woman of us all. For here art thou, changing thy mind once more, no longer about women and their crimes, but even about matters of state-policy, and all in but a moment. Art thou not ashamed of thyself, and in presence of a woman? And the King said: O thou beautiful and tormenting being, I am not in the least ashamed: for it is all thy fault, and thy doing, and thou art the cause of all. And now I wish from the very bottom of my heart, that thou wert thyself the Guru. For I wish to transact no business of any kind, except with thee: and moreover, the concern is far less, in this matter, with the Guru than with thee.
And she thought for a moment, and she said: And what if I were actually the Guru? What then? Come, what can be so easy as to gratify thy wish? Shall we, like children, make believe? Suppose me, if thou canst, to be the Guru, and tell me, what is thy business of State.
And she changed, all at once, her position, and sat, as though upon the carpet of a Durbar, cross-legged, assuming an air of dignity, with mock solemnity, as if preparing to listen with profound attention to what he was about to say. And as he watched her, the heart of Yogeshwara in his ambush almost burst within him, and he exclaimed within himself: Ha! Surely I am a baby, in matters of diplomacy, compared with this extraordinary woman! For she has reached, at a single bound, the very object of her meeting, and has actually presented herself to him, in her true capacity, spreading open, as it were, the very truth naked before his eyes, without his so much as suspecting anything at all!
XII
But in the meanwhile, the King gazed at her, intoxicated with admiration and delight. And he murmured to himself: Where has the woman gone, of whom, at first, I think, I was actually afraid? For now she has turned, so to speak, into a child, playing at a game. And all at once, he began to tremble. For like a flash of lightning, the dark ocean of love-rapture in which he was plunged suddenly became illuminated with a ray of sunlight in the form of hope, so that he said to himself: Am I mistaken, or is she a little kinder than she was? And all at once, a thought came into his heart. And he leaned towards her, and said: Dear little Guru, thou art new to state-affairs, of which the first axiom is this, that the discussion of matters of importance demands above all things absolute secrecy, and freedom from interruption. Is there no attendant of thine somewhere within call, whom we might summon, and bid him tell the true Guru, that he is not required, until our deliberation is concluded?
And hearing him speak, the King's daughter broke into a peal of laughter. And suddenly abandoning all her dignity, she began to clap her hands in delight, looking at him joyously, as if she were really nothing but a child. And she exclaimed: Ah! thou art crafty, and cunning indeed. Ah! that would indeed be a stroke of policy, to oust the true Guru in favour of the sham. But, O King Chand, I fear that it cannot be. Thou must resign thyself to making the best of the time still at thy disposal, afforded thee by his delay. Therefore lay thy matter very quickly before me, for due consideration.
And the King said: O most reverend Guru, I came here to deliberate on certain preliminary difficulties, in the matter of thy father's submission to myself. For he is, of all the kings, the only one that has not yet submitted. Then she said: But what if he should refuse? Then said Chand: He will not refuse, for if he did, I should compel him, by force. And he will never bring the matter to that test, for well he knows, that my strength is a hundred times greater than his own. Aye! had he dreamed of resistance, I should have been delighted: and we should long ago have swept him away, as an angry river does a blade of straw.
And she looked furtively at him as he spoke, saying to herself: Now he is himself, no longer like a bashful lover, but resembling that great copper-coloured eagle that recently swept by us as it searched for prey. And as he thinks of a battle, he has for the moment forgotten all about me, proud, and confident of his own strength. And then, as the King looked at her, she placed her finger on the very point of her chin, and said: O King, this is a matter requiring for its settlement age, and experience, and policy of the very deepest kind. And therefore the King my master entrusted it to me, as being, in all his dominions, the oldest and most crafty of his advisers.
And she looked at the King with a smile, while Yogeshwara in his ambush laughed to himself for joy: saying to himself: She is utterly deceiving him, by telling him the very truth. But the King said: O wrinkled, grey-haired Guru, sure I am, that the King thy master could not possibly have entrusted the matter to a more irresistible negotiator than thyself, whose years are a guarantee for thy incomparable dexterity. Then she said, looking at him with large eyes full of grave reproof: Such compliments are, we know, the indispensable preliminary in all negotiations, meaning, as their employers know well, absolutely nothing at all. And the King said: Dear Guru, thou art altogether mistaken. For I do not speak by proxy, but am my own ambassador, and therefore empower myself to say exactly what I mean, as in this instance. Then she said: Let us pass over all preliminaries, and come to the business in hand. Can we not offer inducements to the enemy, whom we are not strong enough to meet in the field, to come to terms? And the King said eagerly: Aye! that you can. For often, on the very eve of battle, timely alliances and bribes have warded off disaster; and for this very purpose it was, that, as I think, kings' daughters were invented by the Creator. For many times, the gift of a daughter has turned an enemy into a friend. Then she said: Ah! but in this case, such an expedient is altogether futile, and out of the question. For King Chand is known to be an enemy of women, and kings' daughters are, after all, only women, and therefore less than nothing, and of no value in his eyes. And the King said hastily: Sweet Guru, thy spies have misinformed thee, and led thee astray. For I can positively assure thee that circumstances of very recent occurrence have so altered the complexion of King Chand's opinions, that the offer of a daughter by King Mitra would certainly render all submission entirely superfluous. Go back and tell thy master, that King Chand would infinitely prefer his daughter to his submission, or anything whatever in the world.
And she looked at him, gravely shaking at him her pretty head, and she said, with indecision in her voice: O Intruder, remember! and beware! It is time now, to bring this game to a conclusion. For what is it, after all, but child's-play? And it is even more than time for the true Guru to appear. And the King exclaimed: Nay, dearest Guru, not so. For I swear to thee, that though the game might be a game, my terms are no jest. And she said: Then, as Guru, I reply: Who shall convince King Mitra, and still more, his daughter, that King Chand has changed his mind? For in love, as in war, promises may be deception, and oaths but a snare.
XIII
And then, as Chand suddenly rose to his feet, and stood up, she also started up, exclaiming: O King, stand still now, for a little while, and listen to me. And as she stood, with each hand firmly clenched beside her, and her head thrown back upon her shoulders, she resembled a picture of determination. And she turned just a little paler, and her eyes grew just a little darker, as she fixed her glance upon the King. And Yogeshwara, as he watched her from his ambush, said with anxiety to himself: What in the world is she going to do now? For she has completely gained her end, and brought the negotiation to a successful issue; and now all she has to do is, to break off the interview and go away: and everything will settle of its own accord for our advantage. Can it be, that having hitherto played her part with the most consummate skill, she is just about to spoil all by some false step, or, that as her sex gave her victory, so now it is going to tempt her into losing all gained, by some unhappy blunder, springing from feminine caprice? Or does she, for all her cleverness, not yet understand, that the essence of all wisdom lies in knowing where to stop?
So then, as Chand watched her, also with anxiety, all unaware of what was passing in her mind, she said: O King Chand, it may very well be, that should you make your proposal to the King my father, he will accept it, to secure his own advantage. For many times a daughter has been sacrificed, to save a State; tossed like a ball backwards and forwards from hand to hand, and like a bag of money, changing owners in the market, with no voice in the matter of its own. But now there is another person to be considered. For since the beginning, it has been the privilege of all kings' daughters to choose their husbands for themselves.[13] And though my father may be willing, and even all too willing, to close with your offer, and hand me over like a cow to the best bidder, perhaps I may not be equally pleased with the bargain myself. And what guarantee canst thou give me, that I shall not be a loser in the matter, and a victim, and a dupe?
And as she spoke, she fixed her eyes sternly on the King, as though to search him, with penetrating interrogation in their glance. And the King said sorrowfully: Alas! dear Guru, what can I say to thee to convince thee of my sincerity? And she said, with energy: Nay, in this matter, I am no Guru, but like thee, my own ambassador. And what hast thou to say, then, for thyself? Thou art a known enemy of women. And hast thou, then, any ground for thy dislike? Hast thou bought thy bad wisdom in the market of experience, and drawn thy bad opinion of my sex from association with evil specimens of womankind? And as she spoke, she shot at him a glance that resembled a flash of dark lightning in the form of suspicion, and entered his soul like a sword. And the King said earnestly: May I never see thee again, if I have any such experience at all: for I do assure thee, that I have hardly ever seen, much less spoken to, any woman but thyself.
And as he stood, with his hand stretched towards her, and timidity mixed with entreaty in his eyes, she plunged into them her own, as if endeavouring to read to the very bottom of his heart. And all at once, she sighed a little sigh, as if with unutterable relief. And she sank back, changing suddenly all over as it were from the hardest stone into a substance softer than the foam of the sea. And her clenched hands relaxed, opening like flowers, and the cloud vanished from her face, and there came into her eyes a smile that ran as it were like sunshine over her whole body. And she exclaimed: Why, then, thou art altogether fraudulent. And pray, by what authority didst thou dare to assume, like a severe judge, the right of condemning all women in the lump, never having had anything to do with them? And the King said: I learned my lesson from my father, and with him was my whole life passed, in camps, and battlefields, and the chase of wild beasts. Then she said: Thou hast indeed something in thee of the wild animals amongst which thou hast lived, and art in sore need of training in gentler arts. And could I but consider thee a true diamond, I have half a mind to be thy polisher, myself.
And she looked at the King with eyes, in which the sweetness was within a very little of affection. And instantly, fire leaped from the King's heart, and ran like a flame all through him. And he exclaimed: Ah! with thee for my teacher, I would very quickly learn anything whatever. Then she said: Go back, O Intruder, to thy seat: for it is not good for the pupil to be in too great a proximity to his Guru:[14] and I will give thee thy first lesson.
And as the King returned joyously to his seat, she took her flower basket, and turning it over, emptied all its remaining flowers upon the floor. And choosing one from among them, she placed the basket, upside down, a little way from the King, and seated herself upon it, with the flower in her hand. And she said: Now the judge is on the seat of judgment, to try thee. And yonder is my garland, and now it is to be determined, whether thou art worthy to have it placed about thy neck,[15] or not.
And Yogeshwara in his ambush said softly to himself: Now she is playing with him, after the manner of her sex. And who knows, whether it has not come about, that the biter has been bit, and the snarer taken in the snare, and she has partly fallen in love with him herself: as well she might. For love is dangerous, and double-edged, and catching, like a fever, and it will be long before she sees another, better fitted than this young lion's cub, to touch her heart. And she looks at him now, not as she did before, but as if she were beginning to wish to coax him, and to tease him, and to play the tyrant over him, as much as he wishes it himself. For the longing that stretches, as it were, imploring hands towards her, out of his intoxicated eyes, resembles a whirlpool, out of which she may not find it easy, and perhaps does not even desire, to escape.
XIV
So she sat awhile, looking at him with mischief in her laughing eyes, at which he gazed with senses that began to leave him out of joy. And all at once, she held up before him the lily in her hand. And she said: Dost thou recognise this flower? And the King looked at it carefully, bending forward half to see it, half in order to get closer to the hand that held it up. And he said: No: it is a flower of a kind very singular indeed, and of strange beauty, that I have never seen before. Then she said: It is my flower, chosen by me, and preferred to all the others, to be mine, and like myself, a native of the hills. And if ever, in any former birth, I was myself a flower, beyond a doubt, I was this: for as I see it, when I wander in the forest, I am drawn as it were towards it, whether I will or no, and it speaks to me, in its language, of a long forgotten state when we were one. And now, canst thou employ it in battle as a sword? And yet, for all that, is it good for nothing? Then he said: O Guru, I see thy meaning and thy malice. It would indeed be a folly and a sin, to employ the sweet flower as a sword. And were it mine, I would place it in a shrine, and worship it as it deserves, since it exactly resembles the hood of the snake that overshadows Maheshwara, save only that it is white.[16] And now, since it is thy flower, it shall also be mine. Then she said: But as yet it is not thine. And whether I give it thee, or not, depends on my decision in thy case. And I incline to think, not. For it is but an hour, since thou wert ready to condemn all flowers whatever as things of naught, only because the poor flowers were not swords. And the King said: Dear Guru, be not hasty and unjust. Could he be blamed for not appreciating flowers that had never seen one in his life? Then she said: And what, then, had he seen one, and only one? Much I fear, lest, once having experienced the sweetness of one flower, he might be tempted to run riot among them all.
And the King said, with emphasis: Guru, thy fear is vain, and void of substance, and like my own antipathy before.
And she stooped, and picked up at random another flower from the floor. And she said: See! is not this one just as beautiful and tempting as the first? But the King put up his hands before his eyes, exclaiming: I will not even look at it at all. Then she said, softly: Who will believe the bee, that swore a deadly feud against all flowers, now swearing to confine himself to one? Are not all bees naturally rovers, and hard to satiate, such is their appetite for variety? And he said: I know nothing of the bees, but this I know, that for myself, I want no flower but one. Then she said: And for how long? And he said: For ayuga. And she exclaimed: What! only a singleyuga?[17] And he said: Akalpa. And she said: Thy desire for the flower has then, after all, a limit, if a long one? And the King said: Multiplyyugabyyuga, andkalpa by kalpa, it is the same.
And she said: And what, during all theseyugasandkalpas, wouldst thou be doing with thy flower? And he said: Nay, I will show thee, then, when it is mine. Of what use are the words of one unworthy of belief?
And she waited for a while, with a hesitation compounded half of indecision, half of the wish to keep him in suspense. And then all at once she laughed, and blushed, and threw the flower towards him, saying: Come, I will try thee, for a singleyuga. And if, at its end, my flower is still with thee, who knows what I may give thee in the next?
XV
And then, as the King seized the flower with avidity, and put it to his lips, looking at her with longing eyes, she looked back at him for a single instant with the shadow of a smile trembling on the very corner of her lips: and then all at once, it vanished, and she dropped her eyes, and just a very little colour came into her cheek. And so, for a while, they remained silent; she with her eyes fixed upon the ground, and he with his own fastened upon her face. And there was dead silence in that arbour, just as if nobody was there. Only the humming of the bees seemed as it were to murmur to them, like the echo of their own thoughts, which neither dared to speak. And the wind sighed in the valley, and died away, leaving behind it a silence greater than before, in which they heard nothing but the beating of their own hearts.
And all at once, she rose abruptly from her basket, as if half-frightened at the very silence, and moved away, a little way, towards the edge of the abyss. And at that moment, the King suddenly struck his hand upon his knee. And he exclaimed, Ha! so vehemently, that she started, and turned and stood, looking at him, in alarm. And she said, in a voice that faltered with timidity: What is the matter? And the King exclaimed: Alas! dearest Guru, I have frightened thee. And yet I think, that I shall frighten thee again, as often as I can, so much does thy fear become thee. Then she said: But what caused thee to exclaim? And he said: I have made a discovery. Then she said, with a smile: And what hast thou discovered? And the King said: Alas! now all thy beautiful timidity has flown away. And with reason: for thou hast little indeed to fear, so long as I am near thee. Aye! woe to whatever threatens thee, while I am by thy side! But as to my discovery, it is, that thou art an impostor and a cheat.
And she looked at him, fixedly, turning just a little paler: and she said: I do not understand. Then he said: Here all this while, I have been before thee like a culprit, rated by thee for my opinion of thy sex: and reduced to utter shame before thee, falsely representing thyself to be a woman. And as I looked at thee, all at once, like a sudden flash of lightning, the truth appeared: and now I know thee to be a rogue, and a cheat, and not a woman after all. And now I am redeemed, in my own eyes, and feel no longer any shame at being drawn against my will to one who has absolutely no claim to be classed among the sex.
And she laughed, as if with relief; and she said: What, then, am I, if not a woman? And the King said: How can I tell? But doubtless thou art some mountain incarnation of loveliness and fascination, distinct and altogether different from the race of men and women, and peculiar to thyself. And now I have a great mind to punish thee for thy villainy, in falsely playing the woman for my confusion.
And she laughed again, softly, and said: What wilt thou do to me, to punish me, for I am at thy mercy? And the King said: Thou speakest truly: for see! I could crush thee to pieces with this hand, or throw thee from the cliff. And yet, that were indeed a sin, and I should resemble one placing his heel upon a flower. Nay, but I will presently go to thy father, and bid him cast thee into prison, for luring to destruction strangers that come by invitation to his capital, against his own safe-conduct. And now I am sorely tempted to look upon thee as a Yakshi, or a Rákshasi, devouring human bodies, and doubtless, Yogeshwara is thy agent, who draws travellers to thy den, and I myself thy victim, only the last of many, whose bones it may be lie scattered at the foot of yonder cliff. And Yogeshwara said, within his ambush: Now, without knowing it, he is getting very dangerously close to the truth, and his words, undesignedly, will touch her to the quick.
XVI
And she was silent for a while, and then she said with a sigh: What! am I then to thee but a Rákshasi, and only an impostor? And the King said: Dear Guru, every Rákshasi can assume at will a form of more than mortal beauty, and this very beauty of thine makes thee suspicious in my eyes, for nothing like it was ever seen. And yet I would rather be devoured by thee than die in any other way, or fall, as is probable, in battle.
And she looked at him a moment, and then she said: Thou art very young, and as I think, hardly older than myself: and hast thou, then, been present in many battles? And he said: In some. Then she said: How is it, then, that thou art still alive? And the King laughed, and said: Dearest little Guru, there would be no battles, if in every battle all were killed. And she said: But thy own father was killed in battle, and one day, it may be thy case also. And Chand said: Who knows? For some fall, on their very first field: and others spend their whole lives on battle-fields, and Death flies from them continually, as if he was afraid of them himself. Or, it may be, he chooses whom he pleases. Then she said: And art thou, then, not afraid, lest he should choose thee?
And Chand looked at her, for a while, in silence. And all at once he said: Who can escape what is written on his forehead? And if a brave man fall in battle, what harm? For he must die somehow, and in that case, at any rate, the Apsaras appointed for him waits, to carry off his soul. But I have found my Apsaras, while I am alive. Ha! and now that I bethink me, surely that is what thou art. Aye! doubtless I am dead, having died somehow or other, unawares, and thou art the very Apsaras that has come to fetch away my soul. And who knows but that this arbour of thine is a very bit of heaven, lifted as it is above the lower world, among the clouds?
And all at once, she exclaimed, with emphasis: Never shall the Apsarases take thee. Thou shalt never fight on any battle-field again. And then again, she stopped short, while the colour rushed over her face like dawn. And instantly, the King started to his feet, exclaiming with rapture: Ah! Guru of my heart! What! would my death displease thee? And she said, with confusion: Nay, I did but fear for thy life, on some future day. But look! where my flower lies, that I gave thee, to treasure for ayuga. Already dost thou neglect it? For in his emotion, the King had thrown it to the ground. And she said again: See! in the confusion caused by matters of more moment, how the poor flower falls neglected to the ground!
XVII
And the King picked the flower up, and laid it carefully upon the seat. And he said: Lie thou there, my flower, securely: I will see to it, that thou dost never fall to the ground again. And then, he turned to the King's daughter, and made a step towards her, with such determination, that she drew back in alarm. And she faltered, half in play and half in fear: Beware! O Intruder: thou art transgressing the conditions. But the King swept away her expostulation with a wave of his hand. And he exclaimed: Nay, I care not any longer whether I am here by right or wrong: it is enough that I am here, and thou art there. And well didst thou ask me, whether I feared to fall in battle like my father. For never hitherto had I fear of any kind, but at thy very question, I suddenly understood that I was changed. Did I not say, thou wert a witch, transforming me into another man by spells? For now I know I am a coward, and afraid to die, since should I die, I should never see thee any more. And all at once he stooped, till his left hand rested on her basket, to look up into her face, which was turned towards the ground. And he said with a voice that shook with emotion: Dear Guru, come, wilt thou not choose me, and throw round my neck the garland of thy choice? And I will be thy slave, and do everything according to thy bidding, and abandon, if thou wilt, my battles and my kingdom and my life, and every other thing, counting the world as grass, only to sit beside thee and listen to thy voice, and watch thee, and thy eyes and thy hands and thy hair and whatever else is thine and part of thee. Aye! and what does it matter, if formerly I thought lightly of thy sex? I was but a fool, that did not know, and now I will make up to thee for all, and serve thee, and follow thee about, and obey thee like a dog. Aye! I have cast my whole life into the fire, and thrown it behind me like a dream, out of which I have awoken, as thou hast waked me, with a start: for now I see that it was horrible, and black, and cold and vain and worthless; for what is any life in which thou art not but a death, and worse than any death, to have seen thee, and to be without thee, even for an hour. Aye! now I know, though then I knew it not, that the very first moment I set eyes on thee, I ceased to be myself, for it is thou that art myself, and my soul, and without thee I am nothing but a corpse. Only tell me what there is of me which thou dost not like, and I will change it, if only thou wilt help me: for thou art powerful to change. For I am very rude, and need teaching, and thou shalt teach me anything thou wilt. And if there is anything thou longest for, I will search the world to bring it to thy feet, and fetch for thee no matter what from the very bottom of the sea. Only let me serve thee, no matter how: see, I am very strong, and if thou wilt, will carry thee about; and O, that only someone would attack thee, that I might show thee by experience that I could fight for thee like never another in the world! Aye! death itself would be delicious, were it only given as a ransom for thy life.
XVIII
So as he spoke, she listened, standing as if rooted to the ground, with a bosom that rose and fell in agitation, and eyes that did not dare to leave the floor. And when he ended, all at once, she looked up. And she cast a single glance, rapid as a flash of lightning, at his face, that resembled the face of one that begged for mercy, for his eyes were full of tears; and then once more she bounded like a deer towards the cliff, and stood again upon its very verge, with her back towards him, looking out over the gorge. And all at once she stooped, and covered her face with her hands. And so she stood awhile; and at last, she took her hands from her face, and turned round.
And she looked at the King, with hard eyes, and a face paler than the ashes on the body of a Pashupata ascetic. And she said, very low, and very clear, and very slowly: O King Chand, the Guru has arrived.
And instantly, the King turned like lightning to the door. And seeing nothing, he listened, and he said: Here there is nobody. Then she looked at him strangely, and said again: There is no Guru. I am myself the Guru. And as he continued to gaze at her, in perplexity, not understanding, she continued: O King Chand, thy original opinions about women were, after all, the truth. For a woman is after all, nothing, but a mass of deception, and a traitor, and now I have betrayed thee, and led thee straight into a trap.
And as the King still remained gazing silently at her in amazement, she said yet again: Thou hast all along imagined, that I was here by a chance, and our meeting was unpremeditated, and accidental: and yet it is not so. For I came here by express design and policy, to catch thee: and Yogeshwara led thee to my arbour by my advice and prearrangement, hoping to hook thee, and snare thee, by means of me, the bait and the decoy, in the meshes of his policy, making thee his instrument by means of me. And now, thou hast learned a lesson, and verified thy faith by experience, and thy dislike of women is, as thou seest, altogether solid, and founded on the truth.
And as she ended, the King stood staring at her, in a stupor, and like one whose senses have been annihilated by an overwhelming blow. And he saw before him not the woman that she was immediately before, but another altogether different. For her face resembled a very beautiful and stony mask, ice-cold, suddenly put on, as it were to hide the soul concealed below.
So as he stood, recollection suddenly came back into his heart. And he said to himself: Thus, then, the very thing predicted by my ministers, has actually occurred. And like a silly fowl, I have actually rushed into the trap, so skilfully prepared by Yogeshwara to catch me, with open eyes, forewarned.
And at the thought of Yogeshwara, all at once, pride, and utter shame, and rage rushed as it were all together into his soul, and the blood left his heart, and surged up into his brow, and lifted the very hair upon his head. And suddenly, he bowed before the King's daughter, standing absolutely still before him, like a picture painted on a wall. And he said slowly: King Mitra is very fortunate in possessing such a minister, and such a daughter; and I did very wrong, in remaining even for a single instant, in an arbour to which I never should have come.
And then, he turned, and left the arbour. And she stood, absolutely still, watching him go.
XIX
So as he went away, the soul of Yogeshwara, in his ambush, almost leaped from his body, so extreme was his rage, and disgust, and disappointment, to see him go. And he exclaimed within himself: Ha! what! am I awake, or only dreaming? What! after lifting the matter to the very topmost pinnacle of success, has she actually dashed it, with a single stroke, to the very bottom, making everything worse by far than it was at the beginning? Is she mad, or what in the world can be the matter with her? Ha! now she has very effectually ruined herself, and her father, and me, and the kingdom, and all. Could she not hold her woman's tongue, and keep the secret? Ha! now indeed, all is lost. For now like a mad elephant he will be back upon us, in a very little while, to wreak his rage upon us all, and tear up the kingdom and the tree of my policy, by its very roots. Fool that I was, to stake all upon the discretion of a girl!
And all at once, he stopped short, struck with the thunderbolt of astonishment at the behaviour of the King's daughter. For when the King was gone, she stood awhile, looking at the door, by which he had disappeared, motionless as a tree, and turning paler and ever paler, till her face resembled the marble floor on which she stood. And suddenly she turned round. And as fate would have it, at that moment, her eyes fell on the seat, where he sat, and on the flower, that lay there, exactly as he placed it, when he lifted it with such affection from the floor. And she looked at it, for a single instant, and all at once, she flung herself upon her knees, with her face buried in her two arms, that rested on her basket, and she began to sob, as if, her heart being broken, she was about to break herself in pieces also.
And as he watched her, tears of compassion for her and her condition arose, as if against his will, in Yogeshwara's soul: for he had a daughter of his own. And he gazed at her distracted, and seizing his right ear with his hand, he began to pull it, utterly confounded and perplexed as to what was to be done. And he said within himself: Surely some assistance should be rendered to this unhappy maiden, no matter what blame she has incurred by her incomprehensible and utterly disastrous behaviour. For she seems about to abandon the body, in grief about something or other, as great as I have ever witnessed in my life. And yet if I go to her assistance, it will come out that I was a party to their interview, and that will never do. And yet I cannot stay here and watch her, as it were, dying before my eyes, in the very agony of grief.
XX
And then, once again he stopped short, and so great was his amazement that he came within a very little of betraying himself by a loud exclamation. For as he looked, lo! the King appeared again, standing in the door, having returned unheard with silent steps. And as he stood, he looked towards the King's daughter, all unaware of his return. And when he saw that she was sobbing, like a very incarnation of despair, all at once his face was lit up as it were by the ecstasy of joy. And he went noiselessly, on tiptoe, towards her, and when he reached her, he stood for a moment looking down at her, with compassion that was mingled with unutterable affection. And then, he stooped down, and touched her on the shoulder, very gently, with his hand.
And at his touch, she started to her feet, and stood, with downcast eyes, from which great tears rolled, chasing one another, along her cheeks, and a bosom that heaved like the ocean after a storm. And the colour came and went upon her face, like the shadows of the clouds driven furiously over the hillsides by a strong wind.
And the King leaned towards her, and said softly: See, it is fated, that I cannot leave thy arbour, however often I may try. And now, thou art mistaken. For it was my old opinions of women that are wrong, and my new ones that are right. And now, dear Guru, wilt thou choose me for thy husband, or not?
And as he stretched his hands towards her, she glanced at him, and all at once, she lost control over herself, and abandoned, as it were, the dominion of her soul to him. And she fell into his arms, and remained, sobbing on his breast, and quivering with emotion, and joy, and shame, while the whole world swam in mist before the eyes of the King, trembling like a leaf in the whirlwind of passion roused by her agitation and her surrender and her touch. And after a while, he said: Listen, for I wish to ask thee a question, and tell thee why it was that I returned. For it was not only thy beauty that drew me back again, though that alone would have made it utterly impossible for me to go away: notwithstanding Yogeshwara, whom, at the thought of his deception, I was ready to strangle with my own hands. But all at once, as I went, I stopped. And I said: Ha! why did she betray herself, and tell me, when she had completely gained her object, what without her, I myself should never have discovered? Could it be, because her heart smote her, to receive the husband of her choice?
And then, with a cry, she gripped him by the arm. And she sobbed aloud as she exclaimed: Ah! thou hast guessed it, thou hast guessed. Ah! till I knew thee, to deceive thee seemed to be a little thing. And fool! I laid a snare for thee, never dreaming of danger to myself, nor thinking that I should be the first myself to fall into the snare, laid for me by the Deity in thy dear form. And as I looked at thee, and listened to thee pleading, all ignorant of my deception, all at once I became a thing of horror to myself, and saw myself a traitor, to thee. Ah! no, not to thee. Ah! to thee, to thee, ah! to thee I could not lie.
XXI
So those two lovers stood together in that arbour on the edge of the hill, not knowing where they were, and all ignorant of time. And the King's daughter sobbed, until she laughed, and laughed until she sobbed, till at length the King took her in his arms, and seating himself in his old seat, set her on his lap, and held her like a child, rocking her to and fro, and wishing that her agitation might never have an end, so only that he might continue rocking her for ever on his knee.
And at last, becoming once more mistress of herself, she said to him in a whisper: Thou didst well to return, without losing any time. For hadst thou remained absent but a very little longer, I would have thrown myself to the bottom of the cliff, and then they would have found there not, as thou saidst, thy bones, but mine. But as it is, I am alive, to be already a burden to thee, and as yet, theyugahas only just begun. And he said: O burden, I am not in any hurry to set thee down. And I will carry my flower, thou shalt find, to theyuga'svery furthest end.
And as he spoke, she turned in his arms, and looked towards the flower, and she said, very low: When, after thy departure, suddenly I saw the flower that I gave thee lying, left by thee, despised, alone, there came into my heart such an agony, that death itself would have been relief. And the King said, with emotion: I will build for it a shrine of gold: but as for thee, thy shrine is in my heart. But now, O Guru of my heart, there is still something to be done: for thou hast not yet placed thy garland on my neck.
And instantly she jumped up and brought it. And she said: With my own hands, I wove it for thee, and the charm that I sang to it, unknown to thee, for thee, has produced its result. And as the King stood before her, she reached up, with a smile, on tiptoe, and put the garland round his neck, together with the other garland of the creeper of her arms. And the King drew her, with his own arms, towards him, and their souls met upon their lips, and lost in each other, became inextricably united, in the paradise-oblivion of a kiss without an end.
*****
And old Yogeshwara, in his ambush, said softly to himself, with tears in his eyes: Now it is time for me to go, for now I am superfluous; and this is the end, and the battle is won. And she was right, and I was wrong; and she alone knew her way to the only true and perfect end, without which all was incomplete; and I am nothing but an old fool. And in my folly I actually ventured to chide her, and reprove her, not perceiving that it was not she, but I, who was to blame, coming within a very little of utterly destroying all, by my presumptuous and impertinent interference, unable to appreciate her incomparable skill, and conceitedly deeming myself a better judge as to how this matter ought to be conducted to a successful termination, than herself: as if a woman and the Deity of Love did not know how to manage their own business better than all the grey-haired dotards in the three great worlds!
[1] A spring month, our April, devoted especially to marriages.
[2] There is no English equivalent for this term. A guru is the spiritual guide of the Hindoo family: a kind of father confessor.
[3] A woman who goes to meet her lover of her own accord.
[4] The deception of Yogeshwara was all the more likely to deceive the King, in that it was based on Hindoo traditional maxims. Manu says: [vii. 147] "Let the King, for secret council, ascend to a mountain-top, or a lofty terrace, or repair to some lone wood, where there are not even any talking birds."
[5]Manmatha: the God of Love, theChurnerof the Soul.
[6] The God of the Wind.
[7]i.e., Love.
[8]i.e., Love.
[9]i.e., they all lack Maheshwara's third eye, which consumed Love's body with a fiery glance, when the audacious little deity dared to inspire the Great God himself with passion for Párwatí as she stood before him.
[10] The English reader should bear in mind, that, in Sanskrit, recollection and love are often, as here, denoted by the same word.
[11] Nothing in India is so delightful as the grace with which the women, even the oldest and the ugliest, handle that part of their garment that serves them for a veil. It is an everlasting beauty to see them, as they walk along the street, quietly drawing it around them: a thing lost among us altogether, like its motive.
[12] There is a play on the word, which means also a woman.
[13] This is the swayamwara, or self-choice of a bridegroom, everywhere exemplified in old Hindoo tales.
[14] This is substantially a quotation from Manu: only it is not the Guru, but the Guru's wife, whom the pupil is there forbidden to approach. The princess plays upon the sex.
[15] In the swayamwara ceremony, the mark of selection was the placing of a garland around the successful wooer's neck, by the hands of the bride herself.
[16] A species of Arisæma, which we call "cobra-lily," and the natives,snake-root. Though there are many flowers intrinsically more beautiful, I do not know one more quaintly original, than this: shooting up, in dark wet woods, by roots of trees, old walls, or among dead leaves, pure and white and lonely and strangely suggestive of some wild individuality, silently symbolical of old sweet stories of Naiads and Dryads and Russian Rusalkas and Heine Loreleis.
[17] (Pronounceyugaandkalpaas monosyllables, to rhyme with fugue and pulp.) Ayugais, as we should say, a geological Age: akalpa, a whole series of such ages.