CHAPTER XXIX

THE RETURN TO PARADISE

One day the "_Grand Circus of the Two Worlds_" arrived at Bombay. I was by this time at the end of my endurance--overwhelmed by mortification....

I, the "King-Magnanimous," before whom a whole nation had prostrated itself--I, the fierce warrior, who had shed the blood of the enemy, restored a King to his throne, and had been the loved companion of the most beautiful of Princesses--to be reduced to exhibiting myself in-grotesque parades to astonish and amuse the public!...

Ah! how hard life seemed to me! How lonely I felt among these new companions, in spite of their kind treatment of me!

As I was never to see Parvati again--never return to my lost paradise--why should I prolong my sufferings?

I determined to once more go away, and to seek in the depths of the wild forests the elephants' Burial Place, and there let myself die of hunger, among the whitening bones of my mates.

Yes, this evening's performance should be the last.

When all would be asleep, I would quit my wooden shed; I would swim across the narrow channel that separates the island of Bombay from the main land, and go to find the resting-place where all my griefs would die with me.

I was so preoccupied with the resolve I had taken, and the thoughts it awakened, that I paid little attention to the extraordinary activity which reigned that evening among the artists of the "_Grand Circus of the Two Worlds_."

Costumes were being repaired, the accessories furbished up; familiar acts were being rehearsed with an altogether unusual care; and they were even sewing in great haste a gold fringe onto a drapery of red velvet--for what purpose I could not imagine.

The performance began much later than usual. It was delayed as much as possible, in spite of the impatient stampings of the public.

When I entered the Ring I saw, facing the entrance, a great space separated from the rest by railings painted red; the front of this improvised box was covered by a drapery of red velvet fringed with gold, and ornamented with the Arms of England, and garlands of flowers. Arm chairs were placed inside.

I knew at once that they expected some distinguished person; but he had not yet arrived, for the box was empty, and made a great dark gap in the midst of the other seats, which were all filled to overflowing by a brilliant audience, gaily dressed.

Mr. Oldham had been obliged, unwillingly, to begin my performance, and I was engaged in balancing on the Rolling Ball, when a general movement of the audience led me to know that the illustrious Personage had arrived.

Being careful not to lose my balance, it was impossible to look up to see who it might be:

"It is most likely the President of Bombay," thought I, and I cared nothing to see him.

But all at once the Ball rolled out from under my feet, I lost my balance, and fell on my knees.... A woman's voice had cried:

"_Iravata!_"

Who could call my name of other days?... my name of happiness? And the voice--that voice so sweet and musical, which penetrated me like a sword, cast me onto my knees, and sent all the blood to my heart!... It could be no voice but hers--her own voice! I was sure of it, and yet I dared not look--it seemed as if mistaken I should die!

The audience, surprised and respectful, kept perfectly still; and the voice, grown sad this time, spoke again:

"Have you forgotten me altogether, Iravata?"

In one bound I was on my feet, and before the box, which was just my height, and through tears of joy I beheld Parvati, as if through flames of fire.... She caressed me--kissed me--caring nothing for the crowds who looked on in amazement.... And I! no human being, even, could have expressed what I felt, and I was more than ever ashamed of the hoarse cries, and the stampings that were the only means I possessed of expressing a joy that took my breath away.

"Ah! Iravata--Iravata!" said she in a low voice, close to my ear: "Thou couldst leave me at such a trying time in my life?... I saw well enough that thou didst not give thy consent to my marriage; no doubt thou hadst read the soul of the Prince--and it did not please thee! Thy wisdom certainly saw his nature clearly; but thou shouldst have done as I did--resign thyself, and submit to fate, instead of abandoning me--ungrateful as thou wert--because of _jealousy_? I knew thou wert jealous--and I read the death of the Prince in thy looks of rage! If it was to avoid committing a crime that thou didst leave Golconda, I must forgive thee, in spite of the pain thou hast caused me. Thou mayest return now--for the Prince is no more!"

What I did on hearing these happy tidings was certainly not proper, for I have been instructed that it is not right to rejoice at the death of any one ... but I could not help it! _I ran three times round the ring at the top of my speed, and trumpeted so loudly that the Audience fled in terror!_

The Prince Alemguir and Saphire-of-Heaven were in the box, but I had not seen them at first, so blinded was I by tears.

They had sent for the Director of the Circus, and I now understood they were speaking to him of my ransom.

He showed himself very modest and dignified in the presence of the King and Queen of Golconda, and declared with great frankness that he did not own me, but had only engaged me with my actual master, and that I had so increased the profits of the company that he owed much to me, while nothing whatever was owing to him.

It was, therefore, as a gracious present that he accepted, after many protestations, the magnificent diamond which the King offered him, and a very handsome sum for distribution among the actors of the troupe.

Moukounj now approached, and I made the Princess understand that I did not wish him to be left behind. He conducted himself as well as he knew how, and they did not perceive that he was, as usual--drunk. It was agreed that he should go with us to Golconda.

All the Artists, in stage costume, were now assembled in the Ring.

I bade them good-bye as cordially as I could.... But already they seemed far, far away--as if forgotten, and veiled in mists and darkness....

I had once more found my Light--my Life! I could not see nor think of anything else! And while the Champagne corks popped, and the glasses clinked in my honour, it was as if in a dream that I left forever the "Grand Circus of the Two Worlds"--absorbed in the great happiness of feeling once more on my neck the light weight of my beloved Princess, regained at last.

THE END

End of Project Gutenberg's The Memoirs of a White Elephant, by Judith Gautier