Various adventures befell Prince Alemguir and myself at Beejapoor, which was the first city to be reached after leaving the chapel of Ganesa, and where we were obliged to remain several months.
The English (the real masters of India) were in great numbers in Beejapoor, which contained the Residence of a Governor.
While here we were secure from any hostile act on the part of the Maharajah of Mysore, himself an English subject, and permitted to retain his sovereignty only by payment of a tribute; but other dangers threatened us; first of all,my Master was taken for a thief!
Seeing him wan, emaciated, almost naked, stripped of everything, his wrists and ankles scarred with the marks of chains, they would listen to nothing he said.
They suspected him of having escaped from prison—and what they accused him of stealing was nothing other thanmyself!
They were about to confiscate me, and separate us, but upon their venturing to lay hands on me my scream of rage scattered and sent flying both the police agents and the idlers that had gathered about, like a flock of sparrows!
The constables returned later, and finally agreed that the unknown stranger might possibly be the owner of the elephant, but he must go before a Magistrate, and make explanations, and the matter would then be decided.
I placed my Master upon my tusks, as I had done once before to protect him from the enemy's bullets, and carrying him thus, to the great astonishment of the crowd, I followed the police agents.
The Magistrate, notwithstanding the evidence, put us through various tests, in order to assure himself that the fugitive was really my owner; but concluded that even if such were the case it did not prevent him from being a dangerous person—a possible "spy"—or secret emissary of conspirators—and that he had best be lodged in jail.
Alemguir repeatedly demanded to be brought before the Governor of Beejapoor, to whom he could explain his situation; but the Governor was absent on a hunting expedition, and days passed without his return.
The Prince would have endured all these trials with fortitude had not his mind been tortured by the thought of Saphire-of-Heaven, who might be dying of grief and anxiety.
The retreat of the Army had doubtless made her aware of the defeat and capture of her husband. But since then she had heard nothing. She might suppose him killed, and might refuse to survive him....
The Governor finally returned, and the Prince at once claimed an audience of him.
Sir Percy Murray was a tall, thin man, with a white beard and bright, pleasant, blue eyes—very affable in manner, and with an air of frankness and good humour.
After the Prince had informed him who he was, and had shown him his Royal Signet-ring and recounted his misfortunes and adventures, the Governor expressed regret at the annoyances which his own over-zealous subordinates had caused during his absence, and invited him to be his guest at "Jasmine Cottage" in the suburbs of the city.
My Master urged that he be supplied with the means of returning at once to Golconda, where his absence might occasion disasters; but Sir Percy Murray, in spite of his civilities could not (so he said) allow an unknown person to leave without being assured of his identity; he would be blamed in high places—"and might even forfeit his position"—said he!
But he advised Alemguir to write to his wife and direct her to send some well-known residents of Golconda, and if possible an English witness, to come and identify the Prince; and this done, if he proved to be the person he claimed to be, he would at once be set at liberty.
While awaiting the arrival of the envoys the Governor of Beejapoor made every effort to entertain the Prince agreeably. His hospitality was most cordial; his family, numerous and full of gayety and good spirits joined him in offering open-air festivals, receptions and balls. And my Master, if not diverted, was at least much interested by the customs, so new to him, of English Society.
At last the messengers returned with a letter from Saphire-of-Heaven, and accompanied by the Uncle of the Prince, and several friends, who wept over him for joy, as they had recently done for sorrow.
Alemguir, treating me as a friend, as he always did, came and read to me the letter of the Princess, and announced that we were to leave the next day.
"If it were possible for you to travel by rail-road," added he, "we could arrive the same evening; but it would be difficult, and it might cause you distress!..."
So that I was not asked to go bySea, I was willing to travel in any sort of way—and I made my Master understand that I was quite ready to go by train, so it was settled in that way.
I was installed in a great open car, the floor covered with a thick bedding, and with an awning overhead; and I was assisted to mount by means of a broad gang-plank placed at an easy incline.
One would have supposed that they had never before seen an elephant take a train, for there were a lot of boobies on the platform who had come to see me embark.
The Prince advised me to lie down so as to avoid the jolting as far as possible. And after bidding farewell to the Governor and the English officers who had escorted him to the station, he entered his carriage, and the doors were closed.
A whistle sounded, and the train started. Not being used to travelling in a carriage the motion caused me a slight vertigo—but nothing to compare with the abominable agonies of the voyage from Siam to Ceylon; and the thought of arriving before night filled me with joy, and enabled me to endure with patience my discomfort, while with increasing rapidity we ran, full speed towards Golconda....
During our absence a little Princess had been born in the Palace of Golconda.
Alemguir, overflowing with joy, brought her to show me, in her baby robes of lace.
What a darling she was! How pretty, and fragile.... She was like a Flower!
Her little hand held a golden rattle, and round her neck was a string of great pearls that looked like drops of frozen milk.
They had called herParvati, which is the name of a Goddess. I was filled with deep emotion at the sight of her. My heart beat violently.... But I could only express my feelings by awkwardly shuffling from one foot to the other.
Saphire-of-Heaven had been at the point of death, and they had concealed from her the reverses of the army, and the defeat and capture of her husband, the Prince. She had learned at one and the same time of the dangers he had encountered, and of his present safety. And the anticipation of seeing her husband so soon had aided her convalescence.
When she learned the part I had played in his escape, she came solemnly to thank me. To my great embarrassment she knelt before me, and did me homage, as they had done in Siam. Then she declared that, as my poor Mahout had been killed in battle, I should never have another, but should only be waited on by servants, having shown an intelligence so superior as to make it unnecessary to exercise control over me.
I was hereafter to be allowed complete liberty, in the Park, and throughout the Domain, both in the city and in the country, whenever I chose to walk out by myself.
Then began for me a most delightful existence. I felt as if I had been elevated to the dignity of a human being! And the sense of responsibility attached to this new condition inspired me with the resolve to avoid at all times giving trouble, or creating disturbance—and of proving myself worthy of the trust reposed in me.
Oh! what pleasure to leave the city, and go out into the fields and on to the forest!—and to roam freely under its branches, treading the underbrush, pulling up the young trees, as of old, without being obliged to consider and restrain my motions, as I was forced to do so often in surroundings that were too small for my stature.
I was able now to use some of my extra strength, and this rested and soothed me delightfully....
But after a few hours I began to feel how impossible it would be for me to endure the former solitude—how superior to myself I had become; and how entirely weaned from savage life.
A restlessness would seize me, a desire to see my Masters—my Friends, rather!... A fear of being lost, abandoned—of not being able to find my way back came upon me.
I would hasten towards the city, relieved as soon as I saw the walls of Golconda—its domes, the colour of snow—its slender minarets, more beautiful than the palms of the forest! Once inside the walls, I loitered about the streets, sauntering through the bazaars, where everyone took pains to offer me something good.
Then I would enter the Palace, and my first thought was always to seek the little Princess Parvati. I would find her surrounded by her nurses and maid-servants, among gardens of jasmine and roses, and I would stand and watch her from a distance, absorbed in delighted admiration.
Slowly I watched her bloom, from day to day, from month to month; soon she was able to roll about on the flowery lawn, and walk, on hands and feet, like a young animal; then she stood up and began to take her first steps among out-stretched arms....
One day—a day that is a burning point in my memory—the little Princess was rather more than a year old, and was able to run and jump finely; it was a short distance from a pretty lake bordered with lotus blossoms of all colours; her governesses were playing checkers, seated on rugs under the trees, while Parvati ran from flower to flower, chasing a splendid butterfly.
I followed her with my eyes, interested in the pursuit. The brilliant wings escaped her continually, fluttered on, and lighted further off; she grew impatient, and more and more eager in the chase, following the thousand zig-zags of the beautiful pink and blue butterfly, which seemed like a winged flower.
To my mind the little Princess was straying too far away, and approaching dangerously near the borders of the lake.
Why did they not call her back?
I looked over at the women. Two of them were playing checkers; all the others were watching the game, bending over the checker-board, and arguing about it with great volubility; they were completely absorbed, and not one was giving attention to her whom they were employed to watch over.
Trembling with indignation, I was about to run to them and upset their checker-board, when I beheld Parvati on the very brink of the water, and still running forward—the butterfly had lighted on a lotus. I was paralyzed with anguish, but not for long; for in an instant the little Princess had fallen, without a splash, or a cry that might have aroused attention.
In three bounds I was at the spot where she had disappeared among the lotus and the nenuphars. I groped and rummaged in the water with my trunk among the matted stems.
A cloud of mud rose from the bottom, obscuring everything, and the next few seconds seemed to me horribly, horribly long.
All the women now rushed up, uttering deafening cries, wringing their hands and tearing their clothing. It was high time truly!—but much good did it do! I would have been glad to throw them all into the lake....
At last I found and grasped the poor little Princess, and raised her, unconscious, and as if dead—dripping, and covered with black mud.
The governesses attempted to take her away from me in order to conceal their fault; but I was resolved it should be known, and, paying no regard to their clamours, I started to run to the palace.
It was a reception day; Saphire-of-Heaven was in the great Hall of the Throne, surrounded by courtiers and the Ladies of her suite. I entered without ceremony, interrupting the conversation, and the dances of the Bayaderes, and going straight to the Queen, I laid on her knees the child, all covered with mud, and without breath or motion.
Saphire-of-Heaven at first could not understand what had happened, and was about to throw off the black mass which was saturating her dress, but suddenlyshe recognized Parvati:
"My Daughter!" exclaimed she, "and in what a condition! Dead, perhaps!"
A physician was present and advanced.
"Calm yourself, your Majesty," said he, "It is only a fainting fit."
He took the child, removed its wet clothing, gave orders, and all present hastened to busy themselves in services to the little Princess.
The governesses had entered all in confusion behind me. They now undertook to explain matters, all talking together, with protestations, adjurations, and tears—it was totally incomprehensible....
"Be silent," said the Queen; "Do not speak except to answer my questions!"
She then began to interrogate the women.
"The Princess Parvati fell into the lake," said one sobbing. A negress added:
"It was the White Elephant who pushed her in."
I gave her on the instant such a blow on the back with my trunk that she fell to the floor.
"That woman has lied," said Saphire-of-Heaven. "Send all of them to prison. We shall soon learn the truth. For the present I must think only of my Daughter!"
In spite of the tears and supplications of the women, their arms were bound with silk cords, and they were removed, while the Negress was carried out on a stretcher.
Parvati, now revived, bathed, and wrapped in a veil of gold gauze lent by one of the Ladies, was replaced on the lap of the Queen.
The little darling seemed quite surprised at finding herself there, and did not appear to remember anything that had happened. She gazed at the smiling guests with her beautiful eyes opened wide under their long, black lashes, then shyly, she threw her arms around her mother's neck and hid her face on the Queen's breast.
She was not dead—not even hurt. What joy! I shuffled my feet, and teetered foolishly from side to side, and flapped my ears, having no other way of expressing my satisfaction.
"Iravata," said the Queen, stroking my forehead with her gentle hand, "We will find out what has happened, and you shall assist us in doing so. Never, never could I doubt thee, or believe that thou hadst been guilty of a wicked action. Perhaps it will prove that I shall again have to thank thee; it may be that I owe to thee the life of my Daughter, as I already owe that of my Husband!"
It was true; without me our lovely little flower would have been lost! If I had unfortunately been away from the palace at the moment, wandering in the forest, or in the bath, or eating a meal—or even absent-minded, and looking in another direction, it would have been a dead little girl that would have been taken out of the water. I shivered at the thought! and made up my mind never to lose sight of her again, and for this purpose I determined to give up my excursions, and my trips outside of the city.
The disturbance in the palace had attracted the notice of the King, and it had been impossible to conceal from him the accident which had happened to the Princess. He came in, much agitated; but Parvati ran to him, laughing, and quite recovered, delighted with the long golden veil in which she was wrapped, and which trailed behind her, making a noise on the carpet!
After having tenderly embraced his daughter, Alemguir asked for details of the accident, and as no one could furnish any, he directed that a search be made at once of the locality where it had occurred.
"Iravata," said he, "conduct us to the spot."
I obeyed immediately. The King, who carried Parvati in his arms, the Queen, and all the guests followed me, deeply interested.
Having reached the borders of the lake, I showed the King the overturned checker-board, and all the pieces scattered about, as when the game was interrupted. But they failed to understand what this had to do with the Princess having fallen into the water.
They examined with much emotion the spot where she fell—the broken lotus flowers, and the turf all trampled by my feet.
PARVATI RAN TO HIM, LAUGHING AND QUITE RECOVERED
PARVATI RAN TO HIM, LAUGHING AND QUITE RECOVERED
But all this explained nothing.Whowas the guilty one?Whoshould be punished?
The women were brought again and questioned. But they continued to lie, making statements that were contradictory, but all accusing me.
"He came past us like a hurricane, terrifying us to death! The Princess was running on before him, and he pushed her into the lake."
"And then," inquired Alemguir, "who rescued her?"
"We did—we did: but the Elephant snatched her away from us and ran to the palace!"
The Prince looked at me, and I made a sign that this was not so.
"Let them be beaten till they are ready to speak the truth."
At once there was a concert of shrieks, which redoubled in shrillness when the slaves appeared armed with thongs of leather.
The King gave the word: the slaves seized, each one, a woman, threw her onto her knees, and administered a blow with the lash. One was sufficient to loosen their tongues and it was a race to see which could tell the story first.
"I am listening," said the King, and he designated the one who should be spokeswoman.
"Have mercy upon us, oh Mighty King," said she: "we are guilty! This is what happened: Annanta was playing a game of checkers with Zobeide, and the game turned out very extraordinary. We were all looking on, interested in spite of ourselves, but at the same time keeping watch over the dear Princess, who was gathering flowers and bringing them to us. Unfortunately, we were tempted to make wagers, and at the decisive moment our attention was entirely absorbed by the progress of the game. His Lordship, the White Elephant, had been standing for a long time looking through the bushes. All at once with a terrific roar he rushed through, tearing apart the branches, trampling the flowers, and ran towards the lake, from which after a moment he lifted the Princess."
The King approached me with tears in his eyes.
"Thou art verily our Good Genius, oh Iravata!" said he; "after saving me from a shameful death, thou hast now restored to me my daughter! Certainly there is not anywhere upon earth amanto whom I owe such a debt of gratitude, as to thee. Let those miserable women be sent away in exile," added he. "So much for the punishment of the Guilty; but how to recompense worthily the Rescuer?"
I would have been glad to be able to speak, and say that no reward could be more to me than the happiness of seeing them all alive, and of being allowed to live near them.
Saphire-of-Heaven shed floods of tears kneeling at the edge of the watery gulf that had so nearly deprived her of her child. All at once she rose, took Parvati in her arms, and held her out towards me.
"Oh, thou! my unknown Ancestor! Thou who so evidently protects us, accept the guardianship of my Daughter; I confide her to thee; thou only shalt watch over her, and in that way anxiety and dread will no longer afflict my heart!"
The little Princess Parvati to be mine! Mine this exquisite human flower whom I loved above all else! It was I who was to protect and watch over her, and be always near her! It filled me with enthusiastic delight, and I gave such a formidable blast of the trumpet that all the guests trembled.
I stopped short, ashamed and distressed, lest my beloved little one might have been frightened, and not care to have me for a guardian. But no, quite the reverse; she laughed and clapped her little hands together, crying:
"More—more!"
So to please her I trumpeted again—but this time rather less violently!
What a paradise for me were the years during which I was the Slave of that Child!
She accepted me at once, and a sympathy and understanding that was extraordinary existed between us. She was beginning to talk, and from her, with no trouble at all I learned Hindostani; till then an interpreter had been attached to my service, with no other duty than that of translating into Siamese such words as it was necessary for me to understand. I had, of course, remembered a few—but very few—and rarely an entire sentence; but with Parvati, who was, herself, slowly but surely acquiring alanguage—I acquired it too.
I was the one to whom she talked most, and whenever I failed to understand her she would go obstinately over and over the same words. Generally it was about some new play that she had in her mind. With a playmate like me you can imagine that the games were far from usual! "Swing me!" she would say.
Then I would bend my trunk inward a little, so as to form a sort of living arm-chair, which would support her lightly and prevent her from falling, and swing her gently back and forth. Her laughter was like a shower of pearls, but she was never satisfied.
"Harder! Harder!" she would cry, and I quickened the motion and sent her higher and higher, until, when I felt it was becoming dangerous, I stopped.
Then she would get angry and try to beat me. But her tender little hands hurt themselves on my rough skin, and she would stop, ready to cry, and say:
"Hateful thing! You prick me!"
To comfort her I would stroll towards the fountain, and she would follow clapping her hands....
"Oh, yes—yes, make the water-spout."
This consisted in drawing up an enormous quantity of water (we are capable of holding in our stomachs an incredible amount), and of raising my trunk and spouting it out in sprays, jets, and showers. The sun shining on the little drops made them sparkle with all the colours of the rainbow.
With uplifted head and with ecstatic eyes, Parvati would look on. She did not laugh nor exclaim, but said gravely:
"That is beautiful!"
Her one fixed idea was to get on my back and go for a promenade. But a fall from such a mountain as I would have been terrible for her, and I opposed a firm resistance.
At the same time I studied how I might find a way of gratifying her with safety.
After much reflection I thought of something. I pulled a number of pliant flexible reeds, and with great effort and much patience, I managed to twist them together in a manner to form a kind of basket or hammock which could hang from my neck, and in which I carefully placed my little Princess. In this way it was as if she were resting on my heart, and I could watch over her, shelter her from the sun, and protect her from any danger.
She was enchanted with my invention, and Saphire-of-Heaven was equally pleased; only the Queen ordered my shapeless work replaced by a more complete and perfect construction. The promenade now became one of our favourite pastimes.
We went all about the city, under trees that shaded fountains of porphry.
The Brahmans who passed in their shining white robes, murmured a benediction on the daughter of their king; the cavaliers whom we met riding on horses whose manes were braided and decorated with fringes, or mounted on elephants richly caparisoned, saluted her with affectionate smiles; the noble ladies stopped their litters drawn by white oxen to speak a few words with her. But what most pleased her was the People, who shouted with joy, when they saw her coming, suspended like a Pearl from my neck! The merchants, the blacks, who all greeted her with acclamations—and above all the children, the crowds of little friends, for whom she was like a Fairy Queen.
We stopped before the temple of Vichnu which rises like a great bee-hive of stone against the blue sky. And in a moment we were surrounded by a world of little children, half dressed, and running bare-footed in the dust, laughing, screaming, and making a joyous and deafening noise.
The Princess leaned forward, and, holding up her little hand, imposed silence upon her subjects. They became instantly mute, and ranged themselves in a circle about us.
"Which of you has been good?" inquired she with a majestic air.
"Me ... Me ..." the entire assembly replied invariably with one voice!
"If you tell lies Brahma will know it, and Allah too, and you will be whipped!"
"No! No!Verygood!" was the answer on all sides.
"Well then, we will go to the Bazaar!"
At this the shouts began louder than ever, and like a cloudy of sparrows, as soon as I moved on, all the little urchins jumped and capered around us in the dust; some of the boys went so far as to turn summersaults, a performance which it must be admitted enchanted the Princess.
A purse filled with rupees was attached to one of my tusks, and we bought at the Bazaar all sorts of dainties and pretty things.
Each child, after pondering deeply—usually with its finger in its mouth—announced what it would best like to have; mangoes, bananas, oranges, sherbet, pastry-cakes, preserves, or perhaps a necklace of "vamba" beads as red as coral, bracelets of enamelled clay—a parasol—slippers; some asked for a tunic, or a veil of muslin....
I, myself was never forgotten. I also was expected to choose what I would like, and I always selected a pastry-shop, where my appetite was allowed full sway. I gobbled pies, cookies, cream-cakes, biscuits, buns—the entire stock. I was terribly ashamed of my greediness, but could not restrain myself. I was the one whose tastes were the most expensive!
"WHICH OF YOU HAS BEEN GOOD?" SHE INQUIRED
"WHICH OF YOU HAS BEEN GOOD?" SHE INQUIRED
The change for the last rupee I scattered in a shower, and while the little ones were engaged in picking up the bits of money we left.
Sometimes they ran after, and rejoined us. Then they formed a ring and joined hands in a gay dance, holding us captive in their happy circle.
Parvati in her basket would stir restlessly: she longed to get down and mingle in the dance, but her dignity of Princess forbade such a thing. When I suspected that her feet were getting the better of her, I broke through the circle with a stern motion, and carried her rapidly away.
The education of Parvati had begun, to her great displeasure—and to mine. For long hours she had to listen to the Brahmans, instead of playing with me, or going to harangue the happy little vagabonds of the city. Music, dancing, poetry, writing—it was all terrible! and I could hear my beloved weeping—screaming—stamping, in the midst of her respectful but stern teachers.
I stood at the door of the schoolroom, helpless, with drooping head, replying with groans to the furious outcries of the rebellious pupil.
Sometimes she escaped, all in tears, and ran towards me, encircling my trunk with her little arms, and crying:
"Take me away! Let us run to the forest, away from the wicked Brahmans!"
But the head Brahman in his white robe would appear, and hiding a kindly smile under an outward appearance of severity, take the naughty girl away from me....
At last she obtained permission to learn her lessons in the basket hanging from my neck, while I walked slowly along under the trees of the park.
I remember especially a Fable which gave us a great deal of trouble to learn, the birds and the butterflies so distracted our attention during those hours of Study! But we succeeded at last, and if I could only have spoken I could have prompted the little Princess many a time when she made mistakes in her recitations.
It was a very pretty Fable and was intended to teach us that one cannot be too cautious in this life. And, as I still remember it, I will give myself the pleasure of writing it down from beginning to end, without the least fear of making any mistake. It was called:
The Crane and the Crawfish
In a beautiful forest there was a great Pool, inhabited by all kinds of fish; on its banks a Crane had her dwelling. This Crane was old, and could no longer catch the Fish to feed on them. Therefore, with a throat contracted by hunger, she stood on the edge of the Pool and wept; she moistened the ground with her tears, which glistened like innumerable pearls.
Standing on one slender leg which looked like the stalk of a flower, and with her neck curved downwards, the sly Crane deceived the silly Fish, who took her for a Lotus.
Now, a Crawfish, accompanied by many others of the Water-people, approached, and pitying the distress of the Crane, inquired respectfully:
"Friend, why is it that you are not, as usual, seeking your dinner, and why do you utter these tearful sighs?"
"My child," said the Crane, "what you have observed is true. I do, indeed, make my dinner ordinarily of fish, but behold! I have renounced all appetite for food, and intend to let myself die of starvation; so that no matter how near they come to me I shall never eat fish again!"
When the Crawfish heard this she said:
"Friend, what is the reason for this renunciation of all appetite?"
"My child," said the Crane, "I was born and brought up on the borders of this Pool. I have learned that a terrible calamity threatens it; an absence of rain for twelve years is about to occur."
"How did you learn this?" asked the Crawfish.
"An eminent Astrologer informed me," replied the Crane. "Alas! this Pool is shallow, it holds but little water, and will soon be empty; and when it is dry all those with whom I grew up and played, will perish for lack of water. I have not the courage to witness such a catastrophe. That is why I am fasting thus, until death takes place; and I weep to think that not one of you will escape!"
When the Crawfish heard this she repeated to the other inhabitants the words of the Crane; and all the Fishes, the Tortoises, and other Water-people felt their hearts quake with fear and anguish.
They all gathered around the Crane and cried:
"Friend, is there no way of saving our lives?"
"There is," said the Crane, "not far from here, a fine Lake full of deep water, and embellished with quantities of lotus. Even if Pardjania, the God of rain, should refuse to permit showers to fall for twenty years, that Lake would not become exhausted. If, therefore, any of you care to mount up on my back, I will carry you to that Lake."
Now the Fishes had confidence in these words, and assembled from all sides, calling out:
"Take me!... Take me!... Me first! Me first!"...
The wicked Crane made them climb one after another onto her back, then she flew towards a great Rock situated a short distance off, and threw them all down on it—and devoured them at her ease.
"Friend," said the Crawfish, "it was with me that you had your first friendly conversation—why do you leave me behind, and take the others? Will you not save my life along with the rest?"
When the wicked Crane heard this, she thought to herself, "I am tired of eating fish, so to-day I will take this crawfish for a change!"
So she allowed the Crawfish to mount on her back, and began the journey to the Rock of sacrifice.
The Crawfish saw from a distance a great pile of bones on the Rock. She recognized them as the remains of the Fishes, and asked the Crane:
"Friend, how much further is this Lake? Are you not fatigued by my weight?"
"Crawfish," replied the Crane, "what makes you think that there is another Lake? I invented it, in order to preserve my life. Now then, call upon your tutelar Divinity—for I am going to throw you down on the Rock, and eat you!"
But no sooner had she finished speaking than her neck, which was as white and as tender as a lotus stem, was seized and pinched by the claws of the Crawfish—and her life was ended.
The Crawfish then bit off the neck of the Crane, and quietly returned to the Pool.
"Oh, Crawfish! Why have you come back?" asked all the Water-people on seeing her. "Has anything happened? And where is the Crane? Why has not she returned? We are disappointed at not seeing her!"
When they had spoken thus the Crawfish laughed, and said:
"Fools that you are! The deceitful Crane has betrayed all the Fish, and has thrown them all onto a Rock not far from here, and eaten them. Fate decreed that my life was to be spared, and I discovered her treachery, and cut her throat. You need have no further anxiety; we Water-people will now be able to live happily hereafter...."
Now, I think that was a very nice Fable.
Alas! Parvati was growing up. She was as beautiful as the Sun, and as pretty as the Moon; but she was no longer the playful child who cared for nothing so much as to be with me.
She was now a real Princess, and her mother instructed her in all the rules of etiquette and the ceremonies of the Court.
Her toilet occupied her a great deal—she, who till now had thought nothing of tearing her tunics on any bramble!
As I was privileged in every way and allowed to do as I pleased, I rarely left the neighbourhood of the pavilion in which she lived, and almost always contrived to keep my Princess in sight, through one or the other of the large windows, or else on the verandahs embowered in flowers.
It chanced very often in this way that I was permitted to watch-the labours of the dressing-maids (though I could not see why they took so much trouble to embellish a beauty which was already so perfect).
The slaves would bring water from the Ganges, in which they bathed Parvati; they showered her with "santal," and powdered her with safran, which gave her the appearance of a golden statue. Then they threw over her a "sari" (which is a thin garment, as light as a mist), and she sat down cross-legged on a purple velvet cushion. Then the hairdressers came forward; and her hair, which was as dark and shining as a river of night, was divided into two portions and combed, and perfumed, and ornamented with pearls and jasmine flowers. Next they stained the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet a beautiful reddish orange-colour with "mendhi"; she nibbled a bit of "betel" to darken the colour of her gums; her long eyes and thick eyebrows were blackened with "surmeh," and her rosy lips were tinted blue with "missi";on her ankles were fastened little bells attached to golden rings; a golden girdle encircled her waist, and they loaded her neck and arms with necklaces and bracelets.
Arrayed in this way I could hardly recognize her; she seemed so majestic, so dignified—so different from herself, that it saddened me a little with the feeling that she was growing away from me.
And now when we went out she was no longer reclining in the basket against my heart; she was mounted on my back, installed in a sumptuous "howdah" with double bell-towers of gold and curtains of pale green silk.
Still she would not permit a servant to accompany us, nor any of her suite. Freedom, and my companionship were still what she liked best.
"Do you know, Iravata," said she, "when my slight form is carried by your colossal strength, I feel as if I were a Goddess! I feel inaccessible, like the blue God Vichnu, and invincible, like the hero Rama! I seem made so great by thy power, and devotion, and courage, that my pride is exalted, and I feel as if on a throne—like the primitive Lotus that supports Brahmah. But when I dismount how humiliated I feel at being only a poor little princess, obliged to walk on the ground!"
On hearing this I was so pleased that I had to shuffle my feet, flap my ears, and utter little grunts of satisfaction!
We no longer strolled about the city, frequenting the public places, and the fountains, as in the old times. I promenaded the streets with a solemn dignified step; but, once outside of the city gates, I quickened my pace and sought the Forest.
One day a most culpable idea came into my head. Parvati had for some time past shown herself extremely irritated by the constantly increasing demands of her position as Princess; by the Receptions, the Parades, the long dissertations of the Brahmans upon the present and the future Life, and the interminable Poems, recited in a monotonous voice by the court Poet in reference to the most insignificant events that occurred at the palace.
"Oh!" said she, "to be free! to be only a simple mortal! To do only what one likes to do! without being obliged to wear a mask, and force oneself to smile, when one feels like weeping—or to be solemn, when one wants to laugh!"...
To be free! I also thought of it during the long days when I was deprived of her companionship.... Well! It was easy enough! We had but to steal away to the depths of the forest, and never return!
I refused to consider the wickedness of such a scheme. I repelled all the objections that might have suggested themselves, and one day, leaving the palace of Golconda as if for an ordinary promenade, I was firmly resolved never to return to it.
I gained the forest more quickly than usual, and pushed on to portions far beyond those where we had previously ventured.
At this distance I felt safe. I was quite sure they could not pursue us, for it had not rained for a long time, and the dry ground showed no trace of my enormous feet. Still, in order to make sure, I marched for half an hour along the bed of a shallow stream, to throw the dogs off the scent, and when I again stepped onto the ground I felt confident that I was now, indeed, to be for a long time alone with my dear little Princess Parvati.
At last I had quitted that Court where everything combined to separate me from my little friend—ceremonies, etiquette, the great festivals, and the thousand demands of the toilette, which occupied her at all hours of the day, in order that she might never appear in public twice in the same costume.
Now, there would be no more of all that. She was going to live quietly and happily in the forest, like a little Hermit, served and waited on by a great White Slave! And I would take such good care of her—serve her so devotedly—with such thoughtfulness, such affection, such love!...
She was so light on my back that I did not feel her any more than if she had been a green fly, or a little blue-bird that had lighted on my rough skin. But I could hear her singing—and her voice delighted me. She was singing a very long and very beautiful song which one of her Maids of Honour had taught her; it was called the "Gita Govinda" and I think she did not understand it very well, but she liked it all the better on that account.
From time to time I raised my trunk and she clasped the tip in her little fingers, and laughingly "shook hands" with me! She was delighted with this excursion, for it was the first of the kind she had taken. Of course, she had heard of the deep parts of the forest, filled with bright flowers, and she knew that she had not been allowed to come here for fear some heavy fruit might fall on her from a tree, or a venomous serpent dart out upon her. She was not fond of contradictions—nor of being thwarted by obstacles of any sort, and being forbidden to enter it, she was all the more desirous to do so; it was, therefore, with great glee that she permitted her good friend Iravata to conduct her to theForbidden Forest.
At the expiration of a couple of hours we had penetrated to the very heart of the wild wood.
The trees overhead were of a prodigious height, and their tops so full of leaves that the sunlight could not pass through. No plants grew at their feet, and there were neither bushes nor vines; nothing but an endless number of tall slender trunks without branches; it was as if we had entered the colonnade of an immense temple. Parvati was a little afraid now of this vast solitude—this profound silence. She no longer sang, and when she spoke her voice sounded sad....
I hastened, therefore, to go in another direction. I remembered that a short distance from where we were the ground rose gently till it formed a little hillock, which was celebrated for its beauty; so I turned in that direction, and soon reached the spot. A perfumed breeze wafted from it the sound of birds singing in the branches, and Parvati began again her song.
This new forest was wonderfully beautiful. There were so many flowers growing here that as I walked on and crushed them, my feet were stained as red as if I had been walking in blood. The trees bore more flowers than leaves, and swarms of bees buzzed among the branches. Little blossoms of blue and yellow bloomed even on the trunks of the trees, having pierced the bark with their tiny roots. There were great beds of tall plants which bore rich and fragrant blossoms. These were theSacred Flowers, the dwelling place of theGood Fairies, who bestow great joys, and fulfill desires and hopes.
Parvati wished to dismount and gather some of them. I wrapped my trunk around her slender waist, and placed her—like another flower—among the crimson blossoms. She picked seven of the handsomest, made an opening in the centre of each, and threaded them on a thin stem, which held them together without crushing them. Then she unfastened her hair and shook it down over her shoulders, and arranged the wreath upon her head as best she could. I had never seen her look so pretty; her royal head-dresses were too heavy and elaborate and weighed down her delicate head. I would have preferred always to see her crowned only with this wreath of flowers which she herself had made without the aid of either slaves or mirrors.
I replaced her gently on my back and resumed my march through the forest. The vines had now become so numerous and so tall that I could no longer step over them; sometimes I had to rise on my hind legs and place my forefeet upon a tangle of green creepers that barred the way. The weight of my body was barely sufficient to break through these natural barriers and open a path before us.
Often too, the trees grew so close together, and the branches hung so low that my dear little Parvati might have been struck and scratched by the twigs and briars; at such times I lifted my trunk and held up, out of her way, all that might have touched her—-on whom I would not have permitted so much as a flower to rest and annoy her!
All that she saw delighted her. Great birds flew by with wonderful feathers, and she regretted not being able to catch them and make fans of their beautiful red and green tails. She longed to possess the little monkeys that chattered when they saw her, and threw down little nuts and fruits that lodged in her hair. She wanted the big insects that glittered in the sunshine, and hummed about the clustering flowers.... Alas! I could not give her any of them! What is more, I would not have cared to continue the excursion with a whole menagerie on my back! To tell the truth I was rather jealous of the attention Parvati gave to all these things, so much more beautiful than I....
The sun was about to set and the forest was transfigured in the red evening rays, when we reached the borders of a lake, all surrounded by trees, and so overgrown with lotus flowers that the water could hardly be seen.
Parvati wished to dismount; I assisted her—but soon repented of my imprudence, when I saw her unfasten her long robe of silk and gold, throw it on the bank, and plunge into the shining water....
Like a careful nurse, I was alarmed lest my little mistress should catch cold, and I made desperate signals to her with my trunk to come out.... But she only looked at me coaxingly, took a lotus in each of her hands, and crossed her arms on her breast, as they do before the statues of Lachmi, when asking favours or returning thanks. So I let her remain.... I was weak enough to permit her to do so.... She was so joyous and full of spirits! I could see just her little round head among the lotus flowers, as she pushed them aside, walking on the bottom of the lake; only her laughing mouth and brilliant eyes showed under her wet drooping hair. She left behind her a trail of perfume on which floated the blue powder and the santal that had been scattered over her to give her the colour of the skies.
And soon she might have been taken for any ordinary little girl had it not been for a look of royalty that shone in her eyes.
The sun had set; Parvati was returning slowly to the shore and preparing to resume her silken robe, when she uttered a piercing shriek, and covered her face with her hands—trembling in every limb. I followed the direction of her glance, and a shudder seized me also, when I perceived, coiled in the tall grass, a serpent of the most venomous species, which had fixed its gaze on Parvati, prepared to spring as soon as she should place foot upon the bank.
Oh! how was I now punished for my wrong-doing! The pain which pierced my heart at seeing Parvati in danger led me to realize how Saphire-of-Heaven and Alemguir must have suffered at not seeing their beloved daughter return at the accustomed hour.
Had I then sunk to the level of a selfish brute—a being without reflection—a mere elephant? having had the shameful idea of stealing the Princess away from her family and her Court.... Now she was perhaps lost forever—and I with her; for I was resolved not to survive her if she perished from the venom of this frightful reptile.
These distracting thoughts rushed with terrible rapidity through my head, and almost deprived me of my presence of mind. Fortunately, it returned to me. I uttered a sudden roar, and at the same time leaped towards the serpent, who, surprised and alarmed, quickly unwound its coils, and hid itself in the leaves.
It now turned towards me—spitting and hissing—and this was what I desired, to distract its attention from the Princess. She now left the water, and climbed once more onto the bank; she was safe. But, clasping her hands, she called to me, imploring me to be careful of the bite of the fearful creature, and urging me to escape with her rather than to risk a battle.
I could not answer and tell her that my thick leathery skin had nothing to fear from the bite of the serpent, except around the eyes or lips, and I was far too angry at the fright it had caused me to refrain from taking summary vengeance.
The enemy did not move; it fixed the shining gaze of its lidless eyes upon me, and darted its forked tongue in and out, like a black flame; then it coiled again, in readiness to spring.
The upper portion of its body was now half hidden under the leaves, the middle was wound around a tree, but the creature was so long that a part still trailed on the ground. I put my foot on that portion, and bore down upon it with all my weight.
Then the snake quickly stretched itself to its full length, whipping the leaves and the branches of the tree with furious hissings. It was struggling to escape, and not succeeding, it came at me again with such a lightning-like spring that I was unable to avoid it. It twined itself around my legs, and around my neck, biting furiously with wide-opened jaws, but only breaking its fangs on my tough hide. The danger for me was of an altogether different kind. With gigantic strength it tightened more and more its clasp about my limbs, and what was more serious, twisted itself around my throat in a way that threatened to stop my breath.