But next morning, when I awoke, his words all came back to me, and
filled me with dismay. And I sat long musing over them, and saying to
myself: Now after all, it is just possible not only that his words had
a meaning, but even that he was acting as an agent of the Queen, who
may take measures to make me go and see her, whether I will or no:
since she is, as it seems, a musical blue-stocking,[18] ready to
force herself on anybody just to gratify her vanity by claiming
admiration for her musical proficiency, which nobody would acknowledge
unless she were a queen. Out on these queens, that dabble in matters
that they do not understand, and meddle in other people's business!
But now I will steal a march on her by making my escape betimes, and I
will go this very moment and order my horse to be got ready, to give
her the slip, in case she may be meditating anything very
disagreeable. For if she finds the bird flown, she will give it up,
once for all.
And I went to the door and opened it, and lo! there in the street
before me stood a woman, who was in the very act of knocking at the
door, to get in, so that as I pulled it open, she very nearly fell
into my arms. And as she drew back laughing, I looked at her in blank
amazement. For she resembled a feminine incarnation of the dawn, being
a very Apsaras for beauty, and very young, and very small, and dressed
in a garment of red muslin, whose edge of gold ran all about her like
a snake.[19] And she had gold bangles, and gold anklets, and gold
chains about her neck, and she held the end of her garment drawn over
her head with one hand, whose arm resembled a creeper spray, so that I
could only just see her long eyes peeping at me through the opening.
And I stood awhile, holding the door, and looking at her with dismay,
that was very nearly terror, saying to myself: Now, after all, I am
caught, for here she is in person, running to me of her own accord.
And at last I said with hesitation: Art thou Táráwalí?
And instantly, that strange damsel broke into a peal of laughter. And
she exclaimed: I, Táráwalí? Art thou stark mad? Or dost thou imagine
Táráwalí would come to people's doors? Ha! then, but as it seems, thy
thoughts are already running on Táráwalí. But let me come inside, for
why should the whole street listen to our conversation? And she came
in quickly and stood just inside the door, holding it by the handle,
as if she wanted to make sure of her escape. And she said: Art thou
Shatrunjaya, the lute-player? And I said: Yes. Then she said: Thou
deservest almost to be slain, for such an extraordinary blunder as to
confound such a thing as I am with the Queen. And yet, after all, thy
chance arrow is somewhere near the mark: for if I am not Táráwalí, at
least I am her shadow, and never very far from her, being her
confidential maid. And I have come to thee now with a message from
herself: and it is this: Táráwalí the pupil stands in sore need of
Shatrunjaya the master, to help her in disentangling the
quarter-tones of a theme: and she will await him in her garden, as
the sun goes down.
And I said: What, O thou red beauty, is thy name? And she said:
Chaturiká[20] Then I said: Go back, O Chaturiká, and tell the Queen
that I was not to be found. I will not come. And here is gold for
thee.
And Chaturiká brushed away my bribe with a wave of her pretty arm. And
she leaned back against the door, holding the handle behind her, and
looking up at me from under her long lashes, with sweet crafty eyes,
and eyebrows lifted high into a double arch. And she put her head a
little on one side, and said, with a smile: Think twice, O
Shatrunjaya. Art thou a musician, and hast thou never heard the song:
Nectar when she turns towards thee: poison when she turns away?[21] Or
hast thou never tasted nectar, even in a dream? Remember, sunset! And
she shook at me her forefinger, and suddenly she opened the door, and
slipped out, and shut it, and was gone; leaving me staring at it in
stupefaction, and almost believing I was dreaming, so abruptly had she
come and gone. And I said to myself in wonder: Beyond a doubt, she
spoke at random, knowing nothing of my dream; and yet she made me
jump, for her arrow hit the mark exactly in the centre. But if the
maid is like the mistress, of whom she said herself, she was the
shadow, then very sure I am, it is not either maid or mistress, or
anybody the least like them, that could realise my dream. But all the
same, I am caught, for the moment, in their noose: and what is to be
done now? For she will go straight back and tell it all, to this
over-bearing busybody of a queen, and if now I do not go, it will seem
an incivility almost equal to an insult. For queens do not like to be
refused, and even their request is a kind of order, very difficult to
disobey. Out, out, upon this red intrusive jade, and her mistress, and
above all on myself, for my delay! For had I only gone away last
night, I should have got clean off.
And long I sat debating, balanced in the swing of indecision, as to
whether I should go, or not. And at last I exclaimed: I will give her
just a chance. And I drew my _kattári_ from its sheath, and I said:
Now I will throw it into the air. And if it falls back upon its point,
I will go and see her: but if not, not. And I threw it up, like a
juggler, so that it spun very quickly like a wheel: and lo! it fell
back, and stuck exactly on its point, standing straight up, as if on
purpose to imitate Chaturiká's forefinger, and saying as it were: See!
thou shalt go, willy nilly, at sunset to the Queen.
And so, seeing that I must absolutely go, I dismissed it, as a thing
determined, from my mind. And a little before sunset, I went out, and
moved slowly through the streets, making for the palace with unwilling
feet. And when I reached it, I stood still, opposite the palace gates,
saying to myself: There is still just time to turn back and go away.
For my reluctance grew upon me as I went, with every step, as if some
presentiment that I could not understand was warning me beforehand of
all that would come about. And I said: Now then, I will give myself
one last chance. I will stand here still, and count a hundred. And if
in the time, I do not see an elephant go by, I will go away, bidding
good-bye for ever to the Queen. And then I began to count. And
strange! at that very moment, I looked, and saw the _ankusha_ of a
_maháwat_, high up above the crowd, coming round the corner. And the
elephant on which he sat passed by the palace gates, looking at me as
it were with laughter in its little eye, and saying: I am just in
time: while yet I had fifty still to count.
So near I came, to never seeing Táráwalí at all!