Part 4

And then, with her eyes still fixed upon the ground, she began to draw upon the step with her foot. And she said softly: And in what do I differ from all other women? And the King said: Blue-eyes, ask me rather in what respect thou art the same. For thy points of difference are so many, that it would take long to tell them all. But notwithstanding, if thou wilt, I will try, and paint thy portrait for thee in contrast to the others, and hold thy image up before thee, reflected on the mirror of my soul. And she said: Try: for I desire to learn how I differ from the others. Then he said: Look, then, at me, that I may see thee before I begin. And she raised her eyes, and looked straight at him, blushing a very little, and then smiled, and looked down, and waited as he spoke.

Then the King said: Blue-eyes, every woman is a woman, and so art thou: and this is what thou hast, in common with all others of thy sex. And yet, in every special property of woman thou hast something of thine own, which marks thee like a seal, and stamps thee as a thing distinct and peculiar, and other than them all. For others have blue eyes, but thine are bluer, and other lips are red, but thine are redder, and other brows are black, but thine is blacker, and other smiles are white, but thine, O thine is like a snowflake or the petal of a new young lotus bud. Dark, dark is hair, but thine is like the midnight, and many feet are small, but not as thine are. And O thy arms are softer and more rounded, and thy waist is more enticing, and the two proud swelling sister milky foes upon thy breast, more erect and more provoking: and yet thy step is lighter and thy walk is more bewitching and thy voice's murmur sweeter and thy laughter more delicious and thy soul fresher and more frank and thy heart it may be harder than that of any woman that I have ever seen. Moreover, all others of thy sex are tame, and thou art wild. Then she said: What is the distinction, for I do not understand? And the King said: Sweet, I cannot tell thee: and yet it is a difference far greater than all the others put together. For all things that are tame are, as it were, an incarnation and embodiment of the littleness of men: but all things that are wild, as thou art, are, as it were, a portion of the Deity. For thy behaviour differs from that of other women, as does a wild vine gadding at its will from the trained flowers in a king's garden, and thy great blue eyes are utterly without hypocrisy, and resemble those of a falcon or a child. And thou thyself art like the young beautiful heifer of a wild white bull. And I know not how to tell thee what I mean, when I say that thou art wild: and yet it is just this very quality in thee which drives me to distraction. But see, now, the evening as it falls, and the water of the great river flowing with its surface unruffled by any breath of wind: see, how the cranes here and there upon the brink are mirrored in its water, and yonder pair of swans are, as it were, echoed by another pair that swim below them upside down; and the peacock on the temple wall glitters in the last rays of the sun with emerald and blue and gold: now thou seemest, as it were, a part of it all, and as it were the soul of all this body, and like a jewel in its proper setting, and at one with all the creatures of the wood. And I begin to fear, lest thou shouldst suddenly plunge into the water, and disappear, leaving me alone.

And as he spoke, there came again a murmur and a rustle in the air. And he listened and exclaimed with anxiety: Ha! what is that? Then she said: It is only the beating of the wings of the waterfowl returning to their roost for the night.

[1] This single word, a common name in Sanskrit for the lotus, possesses an incomparable, moral and æsthetic, mingled beauty, which can only be poorly rendered in English by five words instead of one. Mud-born is the word: but the meaning it covers is the pure white lotus that springs out of the thick black mire: just as the brightest rainbow is seen against the darkest cloud.

VI

SHADOWS

And the King drew a deep breath, like a man saved from a great danger. And she saw it, and said to him: Thou art afraid. Of what art thou afraid? And the King said: Ah! dear Blue-eyes, I am indeed afraid, but of this alone, lest something should occur to cut short our conversation. And shall I not be afraid of death? For as my life began with the commencement of our converse, so its end will be my death. And like a miser, the very treasure that I worship fills me with despair, because the fear of losing it mixes with the joy of its possession, and I start at every noise. And as I said before, more than anything I fear lest thou shouldst suddenly escape into the water. And I am sorely tempted to take hold of thee, and tie thee like my horse to the tree, to prevent thee from escaping.

Then she laughed and exclaimed: There is no need: for I have no desire to escape from thee. And how could I plunge into the water, unless I were a fish? Then he said: Dear, did thy father never tell thee of the nymphs that have their homes beneath the water? Or hast thou forgotten what he said? Or is it as I said, that thou thyself art one of them, seeking to deceive me? And she said: But what should lead thee to believe it? And he said: Every reason. For they are all marvellously beautiful, as thou art, and like thee, they suddenly appear, seated by pools and streams, and lure unhappy travellers like me to ruin and destruction. Then she said: And by what means do they destroy them? And the King said: Blue-eyes, by showing themselves for but an instant, and then disappearing, never to return, carrying away with them the hearts of their miserable victims, and leaving them instead inconsolable regret, and lovelorn longing for the beauty whose momentary vision robbed them of their soul. Therefore beware! and let me warn thee, that once having shown thyself, thou art absolutely bound to remain with me for ever: otherwise I shall be utterly undone. For if not, thou wert very wrong ever to have shown thyself at all, and deservest to be punished as a deceiver and a Thag.

Then she laughed, with laughter that was music to the King's ear. And she said, softly: But this is very hard: for how can those poor water-women help it, and is it any fault of theirs if they happen to be seen by those who happen to pass by and are not blind? Nor was it my fault, if I was seen by thee: rather was it thine, for coming into my wood upon thy horse. Then the King said: Blue-eyes, I blame thee not at all, always provided that thou dost not jump into the water, or leave me in any other way. And she said: But is it not rather I that have to be afraid, lest thou shouldst leave me? Is it my sex only that deceives, and are there no water-men, as well as water-women? And the King said eagerly: Ah! dear Blue-eyes, and would it be a grief to thee, if I should go away? And she waited a little while, before she replied. And then she said, looking at him with playful eyes: Didst thou not say thyself that this world was full of men? And if, then, one has come into the wood to-day, another may to-morrow. And the King started, and he looked at her with rapture. And he said to himself: Ha! she is provoking me, and ah! she is delicious. Surely the very elements must have in them the nature of a woman, since even in this empty wood, this intoxicating maiden has somehow or other managed to acquire the coquetry of her sex: most of all charming there, where it was least to be expected. And then he said aloud: Dear little daughter of an Apsaras, let thine other man beware, whoever he may be: for I will set guards about the wood, like a ring, to put to death whoever they may find.

Then she looked at him a little while, and she said: See, I have told thee all I have to tell, but thou hast told me absolutely nothing. Art thou then a king, to speak of placing guards about the wood? And the King said to himself: Ha! she is clever, and has caught me in a trap. And yet I will not tell her who I am, for if she knew, she might be dazzled by my kingdom, and fall in love with that, rather than with me. And he said: Surely, as we agreed in the beginning, if thou art a queen, I must be a king. And I will not allow any other man to tamper with my queen. And I am of good caste, and a Rajpoot, and not ashamed of my family. But what if I were in very truth a king, and banished: wouldst thou follow me through the world, as thou saidst? And she laughed and said: Nay, but I am not yet thy queen, and to follow thee is not my duty, but that of thy Queen or Queens. And the King looked at her narrowly, and said to himself: Is she speaking at random, or can it be that she is curious, or jealous, and anxious to discover whether she has a rival? And he said: Blue-eyes, King or not, this is certain, that I neither have nor will have any queen or queens whatever but thyself. Nor have I ever seen any woman in the world, till I came into this wood, that I would wish to make my wife. And therefore tell me, for as yet thou hast not answered: if I were a king indeed, wouldst thou come away and be my Queen?

And she said: I am of good family, and not independent[1]; and it is not for myself, but for my father to dispose of me. And then, the very instant she had spoken, she uttered a sharp cry, and started to her feet, and stood. And the King leaped up in terror, exclaiming: Alas, what is the matter? For he thought she had been bitten by a snake. But he looked and saw nothing. And he drew near her, and saw that she was deadly pale, and drooping like a flower left without water in the heat of noon. And he said again, with anxiety: Alichumbitá: what is it? But she never answered, but stood silent, gazing at the river, as though he were not there.

And the King stood just beside her, looking at her with affection and alarm. And now the light was changing into darkness, for the sun had sunk behind the western mountain, and on the trees across the river the disc of the full-moon was sitting waiting like a thief watching the lord of day away before stealing silently up into his domain. And far away down the river, a solitary star was shining in the south, below in the black water, and above in the dark blue sky, over which great bats were flapping noiselessly, like dusky ghosts coming by night to haunt the spots they loved as living birds. And the voices of the forest day had died away, and in their place the insects of the night were calling to one another to begin: and all about the shadows in the trees the fireflies were flitting in and out. And the King heard his horse whinnying and pawing on the ground, impatient at being tied so long, and fretting to be gone.

[1] No woman in India, even in a fairy tale, is ever independent and her own mistress, unless she belongs to a class outside the pale of moral consideration.

VII

TWILIGHT

And still as she did not move, at last the King broke silence. And he said: Dear, I know not what is wrong, but I would give my life, to save thee from even a very little pain. And now the day is done, and very soon it will be night. Dost thou not hear the horse, calling, and telling me it is time to be away? And yet I cannot leave thee, if I would. And now again I ask thee, wilt thou not come away with me from this dark wood, and live and play with me for ever, as we have done to-day? For in the time that we have been together, thou hast taken absolute possession of my soul, and filled it with thyself, leaving no other room in it, so that everything except thee is utterly ousted and forgotten and obliterated. And I feel as if I had known thee, not for an hour, but for a hundred thousand years: and it cannot be but that we were King and Queen in many births before, and destined by reason of the depth of our devotion to meet again in this one also. And I will make thy life all that I said, and more: and I will be thy father and thy mother and thy other self, reflecting thee as in a mirror, joyous when thou art joyous, and sad when thou art sad. And if thou dost regret to leave thy father and the wood, no matter: for I will bring thee back to it, as often as thou wilt. And we will make this little temple as it were a pleasure arbour, to last us till we die, and remind me for ever of the moment when I saw thy two great eyes, like two great blue lotus flowers, looking at me, out of the magic shadow of the wood.

And then all at once, she burst into a passion of tears. And she said sobbing: Now thou must go away, almost as soon as thou art come. Why didst thou come into the wood, only to destroy me? For till I saw thee, I was happy, and I took pleasure in the river, and the flowers and the trees: but now they are all become hateful in my eyes. For I cannot bear to let thee go, and be without thee: and yet I cannot keep thee, or go with thee from the wood. And the King said, in despair: Alas! and why canst thou not come away? Then she said: As my father wishes me to marry, so I must. But thy coming took me by surprise, and robbed me of my reason: and lost in the joy of thy discovery, and watching thee, and listening to thy voice, I had utterly forgotten everything but thee; and I suddenly remembered, as I told thee of my father, all about it, and now it is a grief to me that ever I saw thee in the wood. And now all is over, and everything is changed, and thou must go away at once, and leave me to forget, if I can, that ever I have seen thee. For I cannot disobey my father, or bring discredit on my family, by having anything to do with thee: for I am intended for another. And the King exclaimed: Ah! no! it cannot be. Surely thou art raving. Or who can it be, for whom thou art preserved by thy father, as a deposit and a trust? And he said to himself: Only let me learn who it is, and I will find him, no matter who and where he is, and rid the earth of him, and get her for myself.

Then she said: Far away in the north, on the edge of the wood, there is a King, Rudrálaka by name: and one day he will come into the wood and claim me for his bride. For so it was revealed to my father, when he enquired of my mother, long ago, to whom he should give me, when I was of age. And my mother went to Indra, and asked him; and Indra asked Maheshwara, who knows the present, the future, and the past. And how can he be deceived, or how can that which he foretold fail to come to pass? And now I see very well that it was a crime in me, ever to have had anything to do with thee: and in the madness produced by thy appearance, I have acted in a manner unworthy of my caste: for I am the promised bride of another man. And now there is nothing but for thee to go away as quickly as thou canst, and forget that ever thou didst see me in the wood.

And the King stood still behind her as she spoke, filled with amazement and relief. And he watched her weeping, with pride and delight; and he said to himself: Certainly she is of good family, and its very crest-jewel, and like a diamond of pure water; for she will not come away with me, but is faithful to her duty, even against her will. But once again I will test her, like gold in the fire, before I tell her who I am. But what, if she does not stand the test? Why, then I will forgive her: for how could I blame her for yielding and allowing herself to be defeated in my cause? But if she stands firm, and resists me, then I shall know that my pearl is priceless, and my emerald without a flaw.

And then he said aloud: Out upon this Rudrálaka, for he is like a cloud that has suddenly intervened, to cast a dark and horrid shadow over our sunny garden of delight, and an obstacle which only the lord of obstacles can move. And what is this Rudrálaka, to prevail over the lord of the elephant face in conjunction with the God who has flowers for his bow?[1] And cannot I persuade thee to forget, one whom thou hast never even seen, and who is to thee nothing but a name? And who knows even whether he exists at all, and is not merely a dream of thy father's, an illusion brought into his aged head by weakness arising from severe emaciation? And wilt thou then sacrifice thy happiness and mine to a dream? And he waited for a moment, and he said: See, thou art undecided, wavering between thy duty and my love, like a flower shaken by opposing breezes. A flower thou art, and a flower shall decide for thee. And this red lotus, which has lingered so long near thy heart that it must know it, and resembles it in colour, shall be the oracle of thy destiny. And he leaned over her, and took very gently, without touching her, the lotus on her breast, and drew it away, while she offered no resistance. And he said: One petal is for thee, and one for me. Now will I pluck the petals one by one, first for thee, and second for myself. And if thine is the last, thou shalt stay, and I will go away without thee: and if mine, thou shall cast away Rudrálaka, like the stalk when it is stripped of the leaves, and forget him, and come with me and be my wife.

And then, one by one, he began to strip the red lotus of its leaves, and let them fall upon the ground, saying as he did so: This, for thee: this, for me. And as he counted, she watched him, with tears sparkling in her eyes, till only one remained. And he held it out towards her, saying, with a smile: This, for me. And then, all at once she broke into a laugh that was mingled with sobs and sorrow and indignation. And she exclaimed: Ah! thou art cunning, and thou art very cruel. Thou knewest very well that there were but sixteen petals on the lotus,[2] and that thine must be the last. And thou art unkind, prolonging my torture, and striving, by unfairness, and temptation, to recall my resolution: yet if I did, thou wouldst only think the worse of me, even though thine would be the gain. Go, go quickly, for I may not come away with thee. And as she spoke, she turned paler than the _Kumuda_ that opens in the dusk, and staggered. And she leaned against a pillar of the tree, and her eyes shone in the moonlight, and she said very quietly: Go now, take thy horse, and go away; and go very quickly: for the decision is too hard for me, and I cannot bear it very long. And it would be a stain on thee, to tempt any longer the wife of another man.

And the King gazed at her, struck with admiration and amazement. And he said to himself: Ha! where is the simple forest maiden who sat to listen at my feet, for in her place I see one whose virtue I have roused, and who orders me to go with the dignity of an insulted queen? And I stand before her like a culprit, rejoicing inwardly at the failure of my own attempt. And as he stood, lost in wonder at her moonlit unearthly beauty, and ready to fall and worship at her feet, suddenly there fell upon his ear a murmur and a rustle in the air. And he listened, and all at once the horse began to neigh; for it was the trample of horses and the thunder of their hoofs. And as they looked, lo! a band of horsemen issued from the wood, and came towards them; and in a moment they were surrounded by the attendants of the King.

[1] Ganesha and Kama, the gods of good luck and love; certainly two formidable antagonists.

[2] It is one of the conventions of Hindoo poetry that the petals of the lotus are eight or sixteen in number.

VIII

QUINTESSENCE

And then, with a cry, Alichumbitá sprang back, and stood in dismay, on the very brink of the river, looking from the King to his followers and back again. And the King watched her with ecstasy, and he said to himself: Now could I almost forgive my attendants for this exasperating interruption. For she looks like a stag whose retreat has been cut off by the hunters, standing at bay, with every graceful limb quivering and poised on the very verge of instant action, striking terror as it were into even the hearts of her pursuers by her magnificent defiance, and cowing them by the startled pride of her haughty and yet timid eyes, and holding them as it were spellbound by the beautiful agitation incarnate in her form, and reaching its supreme expression in the deep heave of her glorious bosom. And I can see that my followers are divided in their minds: for all their respect for me cannot prevent them from transferring their allegiance to her, and doing homage to the true deity manifest in her lovely shape. Ha! beauty is the real ruler of the three worlds, and all others are usurpers and pretenders and emptiness and show. For if I were unknown to them, my followers would pay me no regard at all: whereas they have all become slaves to my mistress, as I did myself, by a single glance at her goddess mien.

And then, as his attendants dismounted from their horses, and stood before him in attitudes of respect, the King called to his chief huntsman. And he said to him: Tell this lady who they are that stand before her. Then that huntsman said with deference: Lady, we are a very few of the devoted followers of King Rudrálaka: and having hunted for him all day long, we pray now to be forgiven, if we have succeeded at last in finding him only to be troublesome by our intrusion. And the King said: Now go, taking my horse; and wait for me a little way off, yet not beyond a call. Then those huntsmen all retired, stealing glances as they went at the King's companion, and vanished again within the wood.

And when they were gone, the King stood awhile in silence, gazing with affection at Alichumbitá, who was lost in confusion and astonishment. And then he said: Blue-eyes, now thou hast heard. And will thou now do thy duty, and obey thy father, and justify the Great God's foresight, and come away with thy true husband and be his Queen? Or hast thou still a horror of King Rudrálaka? Ah! forgive me for trying thee, a thing which I cannot, nevertheless, regret. For thou wert proof against my bribes, and hast doubled the worth of thy wondrous beauty by exhibiting the quality of its inner soul. And she stood for a moment, changing colour, first red, and then white, as if the blood which had mantled in her face had like those huntsmen withdrawn again into the wood of her heart from modesty at the sight of him. And as he took her by the hand, she hid her face against his breast, laughing as she wept, and raining as it were nectar with her tears into the heart of the King. So they stood together in the silence, while the King stroked her dark hair gently with his left hand. And at last he said: Sweet little Queen, thou hast seen men enough now, for one day. Know, that they are all thy servants, from the King down.