Chapter III: A Story Without an End (4)

And I said: Then the way is found, luckily for thee: and thou art saved, since none will ever guess thy part in the arranging for my entry, if as I imagine thou art only sufficiently adroit to procure for me a key without her knowledge. And that I leave to thee, only be careful to bring it in good time, before to-morrow evening. And in the meanwhile, go and tell that other lover that the Queen has changed her mind: and put him off to any other day, it does not matter which, seeing that it will never come at all: since for the future, I am going to be the only lover of the Queen.

And then, Chaturiká looked at me in such amazement that it deprived her for an instant of her terror, and suddenly she began to laugh. And I stooped and lifted her, and whirled her in the air, and stood her breathless on her feet. And I took her two hands and held them tight, and I said: Dost thou feel what thou art in hands like mine, a feather, and a nothing, and a straw? Now listen and be wise. Stand out of the way, between the Queen and me, for we shall crush thee, and the battle is one that I mean to win. And now I am going to show her something that she never saw before, the strength of a man: for a woman presumes, forgetting altogether that she owes all to the forbearance of one who can sweep her away if he chooses, like a wild elephant snapping a twig. And if anything goes amiss by any treachery of thine, I will break thee in pieces with my bare hands, hide where thou wilt, making it unnecessary even to betray thee to the Queen. And now, what have I ordered thee to do?

And Chaturiká said humbly, quivering like a wild heifer that is suddenly tamed by the sound of a tiger's roar: To put off a lover and bring thee a key.

And I said: Thou hast still forgotten the thing without which both are useless, and that is, to show me the outside of the door to be opened by the key. And that thou shalt do at once. Go out now, and walk without stopping straight to the door: and I will follow in thy steps. And do not look back, until thou art standing just beside it, and then turn for a single instant, and meet my eye without a sign. And then begone where thou wilt until to-morrow.

And I opened the door and let her out, and she went away very quickly, leading me through the city and past the palace gates, and a long way round the palace wall, until at last she suddenly came to a dead stop, beside a little door in the wall, that stood exactly opposite a ruined temple of the great god. And there she turned and looked at me, and then continued on her way until she disappeared. And I stood and watched her go, saying to myself: I think she will bring me the key to-morrow, without dreaming of betraying me: for I scared her almost to death, and she is frightened. And I was very sorry for her, and yet it was the only thing to do, for there was no other means of reducing her to absolute submission. And yet she was beautiful to look at, even so, resembling as she did a feminine incarnation of audacity suddenly changed into unconditional obedience by standing between two appalling dangers, and only doubting which was the most to be feared. And very strange is the difference fixed by the Creator between a woman and a man: since the very timidity that makes him utterly contemptible only makes her even more beautifully delicious than she was before.

XXIII

And next day, I waited all the morning for Chaturiká to come, and noon arrived without her coming. And I said to myself as I sat waiting: She will come by and by, and I cannot expect her very early, for she may have many other things to do as well as mine. And it may be no easy task that I have given her to do. And now, what am I to say to Táráwalí, when I come upon her in the garden, and see her, O ecstasy! again? And strange! at the very thought of seeing her again, my heart began to burn, as if turning traitor to my own determination. And I said sadly to myself: Alas! I am afraid, or rather I am sure, that the very sight of her will be like a flood, in which every fragment of my resentment against her for treating me as she has done, and every atom of my resolution, and every recollection of all that I have heard to her discredit, will be swept away like chips and straws. Do what she may, I cannot drive my affection for her out of my heart, which obstinately clings to her image, utterly refusing to be torn away. And notwithstanding all that those two rascals said in her disparagement, my soul laughs them to utter scorn, telling them they lie. And who knows? For who could believe that a body so unutterably lovely could harbour a soul so unutterably base as they said, on evidence such as theirs? Aye! my recollection of her soul is an argument in her favour that nothing that they said can overcome, and I could forgive her absolutely anything, when I think of the gentle sweetness that echoed in her every word, resembling a perfume somehow mixed with her voice. And yet if my resolution wavers, even now, how will it be when she actually stands before me as she will to-night? And yet, how is it possible to absolve her for her inexplicable behaviour to me?

And so as I mused, touching all unconsciously the strings of my lute which was lying in my hands suddenly a thought came into my mind of its own accord. And I took the lute and unstrung it, and chose from among its strings one, which I rolled like a bangle on my wrist. And I said to the lute aloud: Old love, we will work together: for if indeed she is my enemy, she is thine as well. And if, as those assassins said, she is only a body without a soul, playing on us both merely for her own amusement, then we will give her together a music lesson of a novel kind, and teach her that the deadliest of all poisons is a love that has been betrayed.

And suddenly I heard loud laughter, like an echo to my words. And I looked up, and lo! there was Haridása, standing in the open door. And he said: What is this, O Shatrunjaya? Whom art thou about to poison, or who is going to poison thee? And hast thou solved thy problem, since I saw thee from the camel's back, pondering on thy own beauty? Or hast thou arrived already at the poison in the bottom of love's cup? How is good advice thrown away upon a fool! Did I not warn thee? Wilt thou never understand that the nectar of a woman is like the red of dusk, lasting for but an instant, and like the cream of milk, turning sour if it is kept, and like foam of the sea, which exists only during agitation, melting away into bitterness and ordinary water as soon as it is still? As indeed every woman well knows, without needing to be told, and therefore it is that she is nectar always to a stranger, and insipid, even when she is not very disagreeable, to her friends, losing her fascination, like the thirst of the antelope[32] on Marusthalí, for all that approach her too near: since all her delusion depends upon her distance, and vanishes altogether by proximity. Keep her always at a distance, O Shatrunjaya, if thou art anxious to remain under the spell.

And I said: Haridása, I am only a fool, as thou sayest, but thou art wise. And now, wilt thou serve me at a pinch, by something more than good advice? And he said: By what? Then I said: To-night, I have business that I cannot avoid, and yet I cannot go out, unless I can find one whom I can absolutely trust to remain here till morning in my place, to guard a deposit. And so, wilt thou be my guard? And Haridása said: I cannot refuse, if thy need be extreme. For men to be absolutely trusted are very rare, and I am one. And is thy deposit large? And I laughed, and I said: Nay, on the contrary, it is very small. And it will be here in another moment, for I have been waiting for it all day long. And as I spoke, lo! Chaturiká appeared in the door, as if by a toss of the curtain,[33] And I said to Haridása: Here it is.

And seeing that I was not alone, Chaturiká turned, as if to go away. And I called out to her, saying: Wait but for a single instant, O thou destitute of patience, and give me back my key that I gave thee last night, since I am in sore need of it. And then she came to me in silence and gave me a key. And I said: Hast thou put off the petitioner as I desired, to another day? And she said: Yes. And then I went to the door, and shut it. And I said to Haridása: I have an appointment, with one who may be friend or foe, for I cannot tell. But here is a hostage, that I leave behind me. Keep her for me, and never take thy eyes off her, and give her back to me, safe and sound, on my return. But if the sun rises to-morrow, and I am not here, cut her head off, for she will have led me into a trap, all unaware that she was setting it for herself as well.

And Haridása looked thoughtfully at Chaturiká as she stood aghast, rubbing his chin with his hand. And he said slowly: It would be a great pity, my pretty maiden, if he came late, for thy head looks very well as it is on thy little body, which without it would look as melancholy as a palm broken short off by the wind.[34] And yet, do not weep. For Shatrunjaya is a bad judge of men and women, and I am a very good one. And if, as I think, he is altogether wronging thee by his suspicion, thou hast absolutely nothing to fear from me, and I will be thy father and thy mother till he returns to free thee in the morning. So dry thy tears, and I will return to thee in a moment to make thee laugh.

And he led me away out at the door, and shut it behind him. And he said: Shall I tell thee the name of thy very pretty deposit? Dost thou think I do not know what thou art endeavouring so clumsily to hide? Nectar when she turns towards thee: poison when she turns away?

And as I started, staring at him in stupefaction, he said with a laugh: Ha! thou hast heard it before? Didst thou not betray to me thy secret unawares, repeating it before? What! dost thou not know, it is the Queen's verse, which all the people in the city sing of every man who dooms himself by becoming the Queen's lover? I could have told thee, even without seeing Chaturiká at all, that it was Táráwalí herself who was thy nectar, and is going to be thy poison; and well I understand who is the friend or foe to whom thou art just about to go. It is the Queen.

And he took me by both hands, and looked straight into my eyes. And he said: Fool! and art thou actually hoping still for the nectar that is gone? Thy hope will be in vain. I told thee, without naming her, to hold her very cheap, if ever thou wouldst have her hold thee dear. It was useless to restrain thee, for thou wouldst not have believed me, no matter what I said. There was but a single chance. For the moment that she sees that her fascination works, and that her lover lies gazing without reason or senses at her terrible beauty, she is satisfied, and throws him away: whereas had he only the strength to resist it, she might against her will fall in love with him herself for sheer exasperation at her impotence, in his case alone. But she swept thee clean away like a straw in a flood, and thou art lost. Thou hast been playing unaware with a queen-cobra, that has smitten thy soul with the poisonous fascination of its magnificent hood and its deadly eyes, and bitten thy heart with its venomed fang; and now all remedies are worse than useless, and come too late. I can see death written on thy brow, and almost smell its odour in the air. Beware of Narasinha!

And he went in, and shut the door upon himself and Chaturiká, leaving me alone in the street.

XXIV

And I stood in the street, staring at the door as it shut behind him, as motionless as a tree. And I murmured to myself: Nectar when she turns towards thee: poison when she turns away! So then, it is the Queen's verse, sung of others and sung of me! And this was the meaning all the time! And this is what Chaturiká was thinking of, every time she said it, laughing at me in her sleeve, as beyond a doubt she has laughed at many another man before! And this is what the people say! And all the time I thought myself exceptional, I was only being made a fool, and one of a large number, and a laughing-stock for the whole city, and branded, as it were, with ridicule and ignominy as a plaything of the Queen, and going about unconsciously with her label round my neck: Nectar when she turns towards thee: poison when she turns away!

And suddenly, rage rushed into my heart in such a flood that it felt as if it were about to burst. And from motionless that I was, I began all at once to run in the direction of the palace, as though about to wreak my vengeance on the Queen without waiting for a single instant. And then I stopped abruptly and began to laugh. And I exclaimed: Am I actually going mad, for as yet it is still day, and I cannot even get into the garden till the sun has set. And after thinking for a moment, I went away to the river bank to wait till the sun was down. And there I threw myself down at full length upon the ground, with my chin upon my hands.

And then, strange! as I lay, little by little my heart began to cool, and all its fury ebbed gradually away. For as I thought of Táráwalí, it seemed as it were to say to me: I cannot find room, on second thoughts, for any rage at all, since I belong absolutely to the Queen. And all my rage turned slowly into such unutterable longing that her image seemed to grow dim, seen through the mist of eyes that were suffused with tears, as recollection brought her back to me saying: This is how she looked when she saw thee first, and this again, is how she lay in the swing, and this again, when she stood up before thee, as a _chetí_, in the moonlit boat. And I exclaimed in desperation: Alas! O Táráwalí, must I then condemn thee, whether I will or no? For they all say the same of thee, and as it might seem, it must be true, and yet no matter, for I absolutely cannot either hate thee or believe them, when I think of thee as I saw thee myself. And my heart laughs in scorn at all the efforts of my reason, never wavering for an instant from thy side, like an incorruptible ally, that cannot be induced by any bribe whatever to abandon its allegiance. Aye! would she but open her arms to me again, I should forget everything else in the three worlds, to snatch her in my own. How is it possible to hate her? And beyond all doubt, that rascal I slew hit the mark, when he said that Narasinha cannot quarrel with her, being utterly unable to do without her, disarmed in all his attempts to oppose her by his own conviction that she is absolutely indispensable to his own life. For she may have deserved ten thousand deaths, and yet what does it matter, if for all that she is a thing that once lost or destroyed can never be replaced, as indeed she is, resembling the _Kaustubha_,[35] or the third eye of the Moony-crested god, of which in the three worlds there is only one. And so since he cannot do without her, she is beyond all reach, and invulnerable, doing with impunity exactly what she pleases, caring nothing whether he loves or hates her, and laughing at the very notion of being brought to book, secure in the magic circle of her own irresistible attraction, whose very power of destroying all others is her own protection, like a spell with a double edge, such that, as that rascal said, she cannot refrain from amusing herself by trying its effect on all.

And who could find it in his heart to blame her for delighting in the exercise of her own spell, like a child rejoicing in its toy, aye! even were he himself its victim, as its effect would be the same, no matter what she did, seeing that she must attract whether she will or no? Being what she is, she cannot help it: it is involuntary and beyond her control. And alas! I fell before it without a shadow of resistance, enslaved even before I saw it by her own dream, not even affording her the pleasure of watching her fascination gradually overcoming opposition, and asserting its power, and subduing me to her domination, against my will. And so I became a thing of no value to her at all, since in my case there was nothing to overcome. Ah! had I only been capable of seeming to be one on whom her charm would not work, then indeed, as Haridása says, I might have prevailed: and she might herself have fallen victim to the man who defied her fascination and laughed in her face, out of pique and irritation at her own impotence. And all the more, if what that rascal said have any truth, that she actually took a momentary fancy to me, strange as it seems. But alas! as he said, it is all too late.

And suddenly I started to my feet with a beating heart. And I exclaimed: Too late! But what if it were not too late, after all?

And as I stood, thinking of it, struck into sudden agitation by my own idea, hope glimmered in the darkness of my soul like the first faint streak of rosy dawn at the end of a black night. And the dream of the bare possibility of bringing back Táráwalí with all her old intoxicating sweetness almost took away my breath. And after a while, I said to myself: Yes, indeed, he actually said, that she took a fancy to me, even though it were only for a moment. And how could he have known it, if she had not herself confessed it to Chaturiká, from whom alone he could have heard it, since very certainly he never learned it from Táráwalí herself? Aye! and was not Chaturiká herself far sweeter at the beginning, just as if she knew I was no ordinary lover, but one with a little foothold in the Queen's heart? And if, then, I was ever there, why could I not return? And if her fancy has gone to sleep, could I not awake it? Can it be already so absolutely dead as never to revive, with not a single spark among the ashes to be refanned into a flame? How would it be, could I but manage to persuade her she was utterly mistaken, in supposing that I was only a miserable victim of her spell? How, if I could convince her that I valued all her fascinations at a straw? Would she not at least be tempted to try them all on me again, if only to test them and discover whether I was lying or in very truth proof against all the power of her charm? And if only she did, what then? For once she began, it would all depend on me, whether she ever stopped any more.

And all at once, I uttered a shout of hope and exultation and excitement, suddenly taking fire at the picture painted by my own craving imagination. And I exclaimed: Ha! who knows? And at least, I can try. And even if I fail, it cannot possibly be worse than it is already, drowned as I am in misery without her: whereas, if I could succeed! Ah! I would barter even emancipation for a single kiss! And O that my courage may not fail, turning coward at the very first sight of her again! For the struggle to appear indifferent, in such an ocean of rapture, will be terrible indeed, since even now, the very thought of it makes me tremble, being enough to make me fall weeping at her feet. And now the sun is setting, and it is time to go: and in a very little while, fate will decide, whether she and I are to die or live. For I cannot live without her, and unless she will allow me to live with her, she shall not live at all, either alone, or with anybody else. For she will kill me, by driving me away, and I will take her with me, if I am to die.

XXV

And then I went away with rapid steps, all through the city, till I reached the little ruined temple, that stood exactly opposite the door that Chaturiká had shown me the night before. And I hid myself behind the image of the Moony-crested god, and watching my opportunity that none should see me, all at once I crossed the street and tried the key in the door, almost shaking with anxiety, lest after all she had played me false, by giving me at haphazard some key that would not fit. But O joy! the key turned, and the door opened, and I went through. And very carefully I closed it again, and then, first of all, I hid the key in a hole in the wall, making sure of my return. And then I drew a deep sigh, almost unable to believe myself once more in that garden which held Táráwalí hidden somewhere in its dark recesses. And I said to myself, with emotion: Ah! now, come what may, at least I shall look upon her again, and very soon. And even for that alone, I am ready to die. And it may very well be that death is close at hand. For if Chaturiká is in the pay of Narasinha, as she very well may be, and has betrayed me, I may be walking straight into a trap. For his assassins may be posted in the trees in almost any number. And little should I care to die, so long as they only slew me on my return; but I am terribly afraid of being slain before I see her. For then indeed I should suffer the agony of a double death.

And I went on slowly in the shadow of the trees, guessing my direction, for I was going by a way I did not know, fearing not at all the death that might suddenly spring out upon me, but dreading far more than death the possibility of its anticipating my discovery of the Queen. And little by little, as nothing happened, I forgot my fears, saying to myself: To-morrow I will give Chaturiká anything in the world, and beg her pardon for suspecting her of breaking faith. But in the meantime, I must above all manage to come upon Táráwalí unawares, and escape her observation until I catch sight of her myself: for if she saw me first, she might hide, or even go away altogether, leaving me to look for her in vain, and making all assassination superfluous, since if I do not find her I shall simply die of my own accord, long before morning, of disappointment and despair. And so I went on very slowly, making absolutely no noise, like a Shabara stalking a wild elephant in the forest, dying of expectation, and yet not daring to make haste, for fear of losing all: until at last, after a very long time, I came to the terrace by the pool once more. And then I looked, and suddenly I caught sight of her, standing alone, like a pillar, on the very verge of the terrace steps.

And I stopped short in the shadow of a tree, to watch her for a little and master my emotion, holding my breath, and lost, not only in the ecstasy of being close to her again, but in sheer admiration of the wonder that I saw. For she was dressed as it seemed all in silver gauze, looking ashy pale in the moonlight, and she was standing absolutely straight up, with her two hands clasped behind her head, turning half towards me, so that I could just see her dark hair between her two bent arms, lit up not by a star, but a diadem like a young moon, that shone all yellow as if made by a row of topaz suns, so that she looked like a feminine incarnation of the Moony-crested god, smeared with silver sheen instead of ashes. And as she stood still with her two feet close together, gazing at the pool, with her head leaning a little back against the pillow of her hands, alone in the very middle of the terrace on the very edge of its top step, with nothing but the dusk for her background, resembling a great jar, her solitary silent figure, rising from its narrow base into lustrous moonlit curves that ended in the tall bosses of her breast, spread wide by her opened arms, stood out in a vision of exact and perfect balance, so marvellously lovely, that as I gazed at it, remembering how I held it in my arms, unable to contain my agitation, I uttered a deep sigh.

And instantly, she spoiled the picture, by changing her position, and looking straight towards me. And not being able to see me clearly by reason of the deep shadow that obscured me, she came back along the terrace in my direction, walking exactly as she did before, with the same intoxicating straightness of carriage, and the same rapid and undulating step, till I could have laughed aloud for very joy to see her coming to me, like the desire of my own heart incarnate in her round and graceful form. And as she reached me, she said, with exactly the same low and sweet and gentle voice that I was yearning with all my soul to hear again: Thou art late, for I have been waiting for thee a long time.

And suddenly I came as it were to myself, on the very verge of ruining all, by falling at her feet:[36] saying to myself with an effort: Now then, all is lost beyond redemption, unless I play the man. And I came out of the shadow, saying with obeisance: O lovely Queen, that is thy own fault, and not mine.

And she started back, with a faint cry, exclaiming in the extremity of sheer amazement: Shatrunjaya! How in the world hast thou got in here?

And I answered with a smile, though my heart beat like a drum within me: Ah! thou delicious Queen, in this lower world many things come about contrary to expectation, of which this is one. And if thy own surprise is extreme, so is mine: since, as it seems, my coming is not only unexpected, but unwelcome. And yet how short a time it is, since thou didst entertain me with a sweetness so extraordinary, and so spontaneous, and so mutually tasted, that I thought only to give thee pleasure by repeating the experience, and that is why I came. And if thou art sorry to look at me again, I do not share in thy feeling, since all the pains I have taken to arrive are repaid by even a single glance at thyself. For surely even Indra's heaven cannot hold anything so unimaginably lovely as thou art to-night.

And still she stood, gazing at me with strange eyes, and she murmured to herself, half aloud: Shatrunjaya! It cannot be! And I said: Nay, thou very lovely lady, but it can: since here I am, and I am I. And why not? Didst thou think I had forgot, what could not easily be forgotten, how we floated together in thy cradle among the lotuses? Or is it any wonder if I have thought of nothing else, ever since, but how to return? But as to how I came, it is a secret, that I do not choose to tell, since the fancy may take me to come again. And judging by thy excessive condescension when we met before, I did not think very much to displease thee, if I ventured to substitute myself this evening for another, who cannot even hope to rival me in the only thing that matters, my unutterable adoration of thyself: since of thy favour we are both of us equally unworthy. And yet, if, as it seems, I was utterly mistaken and the substitution is not to thy taste, I can very easily atone for my blunder by going away again at once. Dost thou really imagine me one to force himself upon a lady who wishes him away? O thou very lovely Queen, not at all. For I am just as good a man among men, as thou art a woman among women: and if I am not to thy taste, then, O thou fastidious beauty, neither art thou to mine. For the essence of every lovely woman's charm is her caress, which springs from her affection, and the desire to make herself nectar to her lover, without which salt, even beauty is beautiful in vain. And I care absolutely nothing for a beauty that does not take the trouble to be sweet. And well I know, by experience, how sweet thou canst be, aye! sweeter by far than any honey whatsoever, if it pleases thee to try. So choose for thyself, whether I shall stay, and revel like a great black bee in thy sweetness, as once I did before; or go away. But let me tell thee, pending thy decision, that if thou dost not take thy opportunity when it offers, it will never more return; for as I said, I do not like coming where my coming is met with distaste. But as I think, if thou wilt allow me to advise thee, and help thee to decision, we may as well make the most of one another, now that we are here, otherwise the moonlight will be wasted altogether, since to-night at least, thy other lover will not come. For I have taken care to exclude him, and we shall not be disturbed by any disagreeable interruption. And so, either thou wilt have to do without a lover altogether, or take me, for sheer want of something else. And the first would be a pity, and all the delicious trouble thou hast taken to deck thy beauty for its proper object, the delight of a lover, would be lost. For in thy silver ashes and thy moony tire, thou needest no third eye to destroy thy enemies, since thy divinity is so overpowering that not to employ it as it was designed to be employed would be a crime.

XXVI

And all the while I spoke, she stood, as curiously still as if she were made of marble, looking at me quietly, with her head thrown just a little back, and her left hand pressed very tight against her breast, and eyes that I could not understand. For they rested on me absolutely without anger, seeming as it were not to see me at all, but filled with some strange perplexity, as if she were hunting for something in her recollection that she could not find. And when I ended, she continued to stand, exactly in the same position, for so long, that I began to wonder what could possibly be passing in her soul. And I said to myself, as I waited in terrible suspense: Now very likely, in another moment, she will summon her attendants, and have me ejected, as well she might, for my almost inconceivable impertinence, which almost broke my own heart in two, to utter it at all. And if so it seems, even to myself, what must it seem to her? Aye indeed! for every word, I deserve ten thousand deaths, and I could forgive her, no matter what she did. Aye! and if, in a very little while, she does not speak, I shall be throwing myself at her feet and begging to be forgiven, unable any longer to endure.

And then at last, all at once, her tension relaxed, and she sank back suddenly into her old soft sweetness, with a deep sigh. And her eyes seemed, as it were, to come back to me, and find me for the first time, and there stole over her lips a little smile. And as I saw it, my heart almost broke with delight, for I said to myself: She has changed her mind about me; after all, and now my plan is beginning to succeed. Alas! little did I fathom the unfathomable intelligence of that extraordinary Queen! And presently she said, with exactly the same gentleness in her low voice that made my heart tremble exactly as before, every time it spoke: Thou art, beyond all doubt, the very first man in all the world, not only for effrontery and impertinence, but also, for this, that thou hast succeeded in imposing upon me, which no man ever yet did before. For in my simplicity I had thought thee quite another, making in thy solitary instance a mistake, unusual with me, and making me ashamed: since as a rule, men's hearts are no secret for my own, and I read them at a glance.

And she looked at me with a smile, and inscrutable clear eyes, whose expression was a puzzle to my soul. And I said: Then, since thou readest hearts so easily, why couldst thou not read mine also, as it is very plain thou didst not? And she said: Why very plain? And I said: Why didst thou send no answer to my message, and why didst thou summon me at sunset, and yet go away, leaving me nothing but the scorn of thy servants at thy gate?

And she looked at me in blank amazement, and she said: What dost thou mean? I never got any message, and if any summons came to thee, it was not sent by me. For I have not heard anything of thee at all, since I left thee at midnight in my boat.

And as she spoke, there came a mist before my eyes, and all the blood in my body rushed suddenly into my heart, as if to burst it, and then as suddenly left it, so that I almost swooned. And all at once, I exclaimed with a shout: Chaturiká! Ah! then I was deceived! Ah! then it was not thou! Ah! then I was not slighted by thee as a thing to be despised! Ah! then thou art not as they say, one that forgets and throws away her lovers almost as soon as she has seen them first! Ah! had I only known, I never would have stolen unawares into thy privacy to-night! Say, say, that thou art not such a woman as they say!

And again she looked at me, with those strange quiet eyes; and after a while, she said with a sigh: Thou art right. They say, but they do not understand. And yet, what does it matter what they say? Is it my fault, if every man that sees me is seized as it were with madness, and instantly steps over the line that divides friendship from passionate affection, asking me for what I cannot give him, with such eager insistence, that in my own defence I am driven to dismiss him altogether? And she smiled, and she said, with playfulness and wistful eyes: Must I belong to everyone, merely because he claims me as his own, and his property, and give myself to everyone that sees me in a dream?

And I trembled from head to foot, and I said in a voice that shook with entreaty and emotion like a leaf: Ah! then have I thy permission to stay with thee to-night, notwithstanding my overweening presumption in coming of my own accord without an invitation? Ah! I did not know: my heart is breaking: do not send me away!

And as she stood, looking at me with irresolution, I stretched my hands towards her, absolutely senseless, and not knowing what I did. And she hesitated for yet a little while; and then, with a sigh, she put her two hands into my own. And with a shudder of joy, I pulled her to me, and caught her once more in my arms, and began to kiss her, with hot tears that fell upon her face, quivering all over with the extremity of my agitation, and not believing that it was not a dream.

And then, after a long while, I came, somehow or other, to my senses, and became, a little, master of myself. And I looked at her with eyes dim with affection, and I took her two arms, and put them round my neck. And I whispered in her ear: Now give me a kiss for every day that I have not seen thee, since I fell asleep in thy boat. And as if with resignation and compliance and submission to my will, she did exactly as I told her, stopping time after time, but I would not let her stop. And at last, I stopped. And I said: There are more still owing, for thou hast not counted right. But now I will ask thee a question, just to give thee time to breathe.

XXVII

And as I held her still in my arms, with her own arms round my neck, she said: Ask. Then I said: Didst thou know, when I came to thee last time, that my coming delayed me in a matter of life and death? And she said: Something I knew, from the chatter of Chaturiká. And I said: Didst thou know that my kingdom depended on my going fast? For as it is, I lost it, all by coming late. And she said: It was no business of mine. And I said: What! wouldst thou deprive me of a kingdom, by placing thyself, for a single sunset, in the other scale? And she said: I did not bid thee stay. I had sent to thee already, asking thee to come: and if another summons called thee, after mine, the choice was thine, between them. I told thee only, I awaited thee: and it was true. And I said: What if I had not come? And she said: Then it may be, thou wouldst have kept thy kingdom, and lost thy interview with me. That is all. It was not I, who had anything to do either with causing thy dilemma, or determining its conclusion. And I said: Beyond a doubt, the loss of any kingdom would be a trifle in comparison with thy affection: and yet the loss is certain, and the affection doubtful. For I showed thee very plainly which I chose, and my kingdom is gone. I have thrown it clean away for thy sake. And have I its equivalent? Wilt thou make it up to me by giving me thy soul? And she said, gently: It is not mine, to give away, for I belong to Narasinha, body and soul, as I told thee long ago.

And I said: How canst thou say so, when I hold thee in my arms? And she said, quietly: Thou art but a momentary accident, due rather to my yielding myself, against my own will, and of pity for thy unhappy passion, than to any hold that thou hast on my heart. And Narasinha learned of thy former visit to me in this garden, as very soon he will learn of this also, since I tell him every detail of my life, great or small. And he made me promise never to see thee any more. And so I had intended: but thou hast managed to steal in, somehow or other, of thy own accord. It is not by my doing that thou art here now at all.

And I let her go, and stood gazing at her with amazement, that was mixed with bitter disappointment and irritation, and fierce exasperation at this obstacle of Narasinha, who, out of my reach, and hiding behind her as a screen, issued orders that I was to be shut out of her garden and banished from her presence, whether she would or not. And my heart swelled with resentment and indignation, and I said: O Táráwalí, Narasinha may shut his eyes, or not, as he chooses, but I am very different, and will not take orders as to thee, from him or anybody else. Thou art my mistress and not his. And she shook her head, and she said, very gently: Nay, thou dost not understand. I am not anybody's mistress. I am my own mistress, and do exactly as I please, whether he or any other like it or not. There lives not the man who shall say to me: Here is a line, and over it, thou shalt not step. And whatever I do, I do, of my own free will, not of obedience, but of my own consent. I have given my body and soul away, but my will is mine.

And I said with emphasis: I have bought thee at the price of a kingdom, and become a beggar on thy account, and mine thou art, by right. Dost thou actually tell me, I am to lose my kingdom, and get absolutely nothing in exchange? And she said, always with the same sweet and quiet voice, whose tone never varied, adding by the very charm of its gentle music fire to the exasperating sting that lay in the words it said: I have nothing at all to do with thy kingdom, and if thou hast lost it, I am very sorry: yet blame not me for its loss, but thyself alone, for the choice was thine. And moreover, I am not for sale. I give myself, or part of me, to anyone I choose. It is for dealers and merchants to bargain. I never bargain. I am a Queen. And I said in wrath: Thou shalt give thyself no longer to anyone but me. Thou hast already cheated me by making me the loser in a bargain where I lose all, gaining nothing in exchange. But I will have either my kingdom or thyself: and if not the kingdom, which is gone, then thee. And she said quietly: Say nothing rash, or harsh, or ill-considered. It is not I that have cheated thee out of thy kingdom: it is no one but thyself.

And I exclaimed: What! didst thou not cheat me by telling me thou didst love me long ago? And she broke in instantly, and said: I said nothing of the kind: it is thy own imagination. I never told thee anything so false as that I loved thee. And I said: Nay, not in words, but in a language deeper far than any words. What woman ever gave a man what thou hast given me, without telling him very plainly, he was the object of her love? And she said quietly: It was but thy own inference, and utterly unwarranted. And I said: Why didst thou then allow me to make love to thee at all? And she said, very gently: I did not ask, nor even wish thee, to make love to me at all. But I was touched by thy emotion, and thy passion, and thy miserable longing, and willing to soothe it, and gratify it, for an instant, letting thee taste that nectar for which thou wert so obviously dying: for I am kind.

And I exclaimed with a shout: Kind! Why, what is thy kindness but the very extremity of unkindness? What! and did all thy caresses mean absolutely nothing? And she said, very gently: They meant exactly what they were, gifts and boons, bestowed of sheer compassion: and if from their receipt, thou hast drawn the conclusion that thy affection was returned, it is not so: it is only thy own unjustified construction, for thou art not, and never can be, anything to me, but the thing that thou wilt not be, a mere friend. And I said: What kind of a woman art thou to betray me with kisses? And she said: I am only what I am: but thou art most unfair to me, and instead of peevishly demanding of me what I cannot give, and growing so unreasonably angry, thou oughtest rather to be very grateful to me, for giving thee anything at all. I told thee almost as soon as I had seen thee, in the very beginning of all, that I belonged, body and soul, to Narasinha: and yet notwithstanding, I took pity on thee, for thy misery, and gave thee, by concession, what I might very easily have refused, humouring thy weakness like that of a child, crying for what he cannot have. But never did I promise thee anything beyond: and I even told thee, if thou canst remember it, that it might injure thee and could not do thee any good. But thou wert blind, and as it were buried in thy dream. Did I not warn thee, and entreat thee beforehand, not to blame me, when the dream was over, and reality returned? And when I had surfeited thy longing, and dismissed thee, I meant it to be the end, for it was all I had to give. In all, it is not I, that have in any way whatever deceived thee: thou hast all along only deceived thyself. And if I have deceived at all, it is myself alone I have deceived, by expecting any gratitude for the boon of my compassion, and the favour that I poured on thee with no miser's band, because I blamed myself for being innocently guilty of becoming the unintentional object of thy passion, and its involuntary cause.

XXVIII

And I listened, so utterly confounded by the very simplicity of her apology, which overturned all my accusations, and put me in the wrong, that I stood in silence, unable to find anything to say. And in my stupefaction, I began to laugh. And I said: Ha! Nectar when she turns towards thee: poison when she turns away! Hast thou never heard the Queen's verse? And she said: What! wilt thou actually lay on me the burden of refuting the silly slander of a rhyme, circulated by little rascals merely for want of something else to say? Can I help what they say, or shall I even stoop to listen when they say it, who will say anything of queens, without shame for the envious venom of their own base insignificance, knowing all the time absolutely nothing, but making mere noise, like frogs all croaking together in a marsh? Or if I must absolutely answer, in spite of my disdain, how can I prevent any lover, such as thyself, from persuading himself of what he wishes to believe? For all of them resemble thee, behaving like unreasonable bulls, the very moment that they see me, and pestering me like flies, to my torment, and yet would blame me for driving them away. And every one of them, exactly like thee, imagines me his own, for no reason that I am ever able to discover, although I tell them all, exactly as I told thee, that I belong to Narasinha.

And I said in wrath: I will slice off the head of Narasinha, by and by, as I have done already for some of his tools. And I will not be the plaything of a moment, to be cast aside the next. I have lost a kingdom for thy sake, and will have thee to repay me, whether thou wilt or no. And she said with a smile: Thou art angry, and talking nonsense in thy anger, as angry men will. Dost thou not see that thou art bereft of thy senses? For, kingdom or no kingdom, how canst thou be so silly as to propose to force me, willy nilly, to love thee when I do not love? If I loved thee, I should say so, and all force would be superfluous: if not, it would be not only useless, but injurious to thy own cause, seeing that the more thou forcest, the less wilt thou obtain: nay, whereas now thou art indifferent, thou wilt bring it about that I shall hate thee in the end, as I am beginning to do a very little even now. And then it will be worse for thee in every way. For thou dost not seem ever to remember that I am, after all, not only a woman, but a queen.

And I looked at her as she spoke, saying to myself: She is wrong, for nobody looking at her ever could forget it, even for a moment, just because, like the grace of a lily, it is forgotten by herself, and she would still be a queen, even if she were not a queen at all. And she looks at me, notwithstanding the biting reproof in her words, with exactly the same intoxicating and caressing sweetness, as if I were still a dear friend with whom she were unwilling to quarrel. And I gazed at her, yearning towards her with every fibre of my soul, and yet exasperated almost beyond endurance at the thought that she was keeping me like a stranger at a distance from her heart, in order to preserve it for another. And after a while, I said slowly: If thy affection is not to be given to me, it shall never be given to anybody else. And she said, as if with curiosity: Thou art surely mad. For how canst thou prevent any other from following thy own example, and doing just what thou hast done thyself, losing thy reason at the sight of me, as all men always do? Dost thou not see that my power to excite affection is far greater than thine to prevent it? And I said: It would be very very easy for me to prevent all others from ever loving thee again.