Chapter VI (3)

“The faithful Ha laid her head on his feet and sobbed for joy. What a reward! How small now did all her many sacrifices appear!

“For a month the spirit tablet nightly became her husband, and on the last day of the month he bid her an eternal farewell, and the tablet fell to the ground and broke into two pieces. With tender care she mended it, and set herself to await the birth of her son.

“In due time he was born and her cup of joy would have run over but that the most shocking rumours were spread by A-pao and her mother-in-law, and it was believed that she had grossly dishonoured the fragrant memory of her husband. Vainly she explained the facts. The only result was that the magistrate, fearing lest he might possibly destroy a child of miracle, would not himself put it to death, but commanded it should be flung to the swine. Marvellous to tell, the swine, instead of devouring it, kept the child alive by breathing warmth upon it, and it was then that, starving for food, and broken-hearted, Ha demanded a test before the assembled people. It is well known that the children of the spirits cast no shadow, and the child, before an immense crowd, with his miserable mother watching from behind a curtain, was brought into the full sunshine and held up. To the amazement and fear of all, no shadow was cast on the earth. To set the matter forever at rest the spirit tablet was then brought out and a little blood drawn from the tender arm of the child. This was spread on the tablet inhabited by the father’s spirit and it instantly sank in and disappeared, though when spread on another, it rolled off, leaving no mark. Amid loud shouts the child was pronounced the true heir of the family. Ha was immediately pardoned by the parents of Won Kiun and taken into their favour, being permitted to serve them to the end of their days, which she did with perfect devotion.

“My Princess will see from this true story the great reward that humility and patience bring to a good wife. It is not every husband who returns from the Land of the Dead to bring joy to one in such a lowly position. And though it is easy to be seen that it was his own transcendent merits which occasioned this joyful result, without the patience of Ha the nobility of her husband and his parents could scarcely have been rewarded. Therefore the duty of a woman is submission and where this exists all her follies and faults may be covered as a rich brocade covers a poor divan.”

The ladies were silent and the Princess again shook her head with tears in her eyes.

“This is a difficult case,” she said, “and in truth each seems more alarming than the last. It appears that marriage is a sea of perils great and terrible, and to escape shipwreck all but impossible. Possibly if Ha had not bought the concubine—but have none of my ladies a story of man’s fidelity? Is such a thing unknown?”

And even as she spoke a woman with a face like the dusk of the evening and eyes as its stars in clouds, broke in upon her words unmannerly but with such power that all turned to listen, forgetting even the Presence.

“My Princess, my beloved, hear now this last story, for these women have spoken of little things, but I will speak of great.

“It is known to you that when the King Rama ruled in Kosala and was thence driven for awhile into the wild woods, there went with him of her own choice and in utter devotion, his wife, young and lovely and noble, the Queen Sita. And when he entreated her to leave him because of the horror of the great woods and the wild beasts, and the evil spirits and hunger and poverty, she replied only: ‘How should I stay in the glorious city when my husband is gone? I count all evils as blessings when I am with him. Without him life is death. And if my prayer is refused I will enter the fire and await him in the Paradise to be.’

“So she followed Rama, clothed in poverty and in the wood she served him, unfaltering in piety and all wifely duty. And as the result of this nobility her beauty so grew that the very Gods, passing on their high errands would pause for joy to see her perfections.

“But on a certain day when the King was absent, the evil King of Lanka stole this Pearl, hoping to set it in his crown.

“Princess, it is not needful to tell the sorrows of Sita, the temptations she resisted nor the cruelties that could not break her pure will. Flawless in strength and brightness as the very spirit of the diamond was her faith. And when Rama at last, by the aid of the Gods, conquered the evil-doer, she sat beneath a tree, in poor array, trembling for joy to think that her head should lie once more upon her husband’s breast and her ear be gladdened with his praise for the fight she had fought alone in sorrow.

“So she stood before him and he sat upon his victorious throne and thus he spoke:

“‘Lady, my work is done. I have avenged my honour and the insult put upon me and my foe is broken. But mistake me not. It was for no love to you that I fought, but to uphold the dignity of my race. Your presence now hurts me as light hurts a diseased eye. Another man has seen your face unveiled. His hand has touched you. You have dwelt in his palace. You are no wife of mine. Go where you will. Do what you will. We are parted.’”

[And the Princess and all the ladies stared with great eyes to hear what the woman told.]

“And this before a great assembly. So, at first the Queen wept silently, because this shaft pierced her very heart. Then, drying her tears, she raised her fair head and answered:

“‘Is all my faithful love forgotten? It was hard for a weak woman to resist supernatural strength. Yet in all perils of death and shame I have been utterly chaste in soul and body, and no evil came near me, for in me there was none to meet it.’

“She paused and the King made no answer. And she said:

“‘If man deserts me the High Gods are faithful. Make ready the funeral pile. I will not live in this shame.’

“And it was done;—none daring to look in the King’s face, and he still silent. . . . So, circling her husband thrice in farewell reverence, the Queen entered the fire. And even as the flame lapped her feet, the Great Gods descended in radiant chariots plumed for the untrodden ways of the air, and the God of the Fire, who is the Purifier, took her by the hand and presented her to Rama, saying,

“‘Even as is my white flame purity, so is the purity of this Queen.’

“And he accepted her from the God’s hand.

“Princess, would not all the world believe that after this coming of the Gods this King would have honoured his Queen? Yet no.

“He knew her pure, but, since others whispered that another had seen her face, and who could tell?—again he dismissed her for in him as in all men, pride was mightier than love.

“And once more, Sita, standing before him and knowing this the end, made declaration of her chastity that all might hear. And suddenly transported beyond the weakness of a woman, she stood as one divine, perfect in high soul and nobility, and she said:

“‘Never has any thought that was not pure and chaste entered my heart, and as my heart so is my body. This have I said. And now, I beseech of the Earth, the Great Goddess, Mother of us all, that she will grant me a refuge, for I have none other.’

“And as she spoke these words, a very soft air, laden with coolness and sacred perfumes, stirred among them, and in the silence there arose from the earth a Throne and upon it the Mighty Mother of men and Gods, and she raised the Queen in her arms and set her upon the Throne that all might see her throned and glorious. And lo! for a moment she sat majestic, and the assembly hid their faces, and when they again raised them all was gone and only the common day was about them.

“But the King wept uncomforted knowing that never again by city or forest might he see that fair face, which being his own he had cast from him.”

And the woman paused, and all the ladies cried that this was the cruellest story of all, demanding that she be dismissed from the Presence as an offender. But the Princess sat submerged in thought, and the woman said softly:

“My Princess—my beloved,—the Gods rule. In all life is sorrow, whether in Kashmir or Jamu. But the Gods abide. In the hollow of Their hand lay this Queen, and in the darkness the King’s eyes could not pierce They smiled. Certainly she leaned on Their might and so walked content and what could man do to her? Fear not, my Princess. The Gods abide—whether in Kashmir or Jamu, and the earth is Their footstool. And this being so the life of a woman is her own, go where she will.”

And there fell a great silence and she who said this glided away and was gone. And presently the Princess rose in the midst of the women like a Queen, and she spoke:

“This is the truth. Fate is fate and love is love, and what we do is our own, and not the deeds of another. For that Queen I do not weep, but for the King who was blind to her glory. It is the valour of men that sends them forth to war, and it is the valour of women that puts their hearts in the hand of their husbands. And to me, since I have seen this portrait all other things are empty, and if he slay me still will I love him. For it is the High God, who is worshipped by many names, who has made the woman for the man and the man for the woman, and He abides unchanging in Unity and what He does is better than well.”

And as she spoke the colours faded on the mountains and on the lake the evening came with quiet feet.

THE WISDOM OF THE ORIENT
A DIALOGUE AND A STORY

THE WISDOM OF THE ORIENT

A DIALOGUE AND A STORY