And I stood, looking after him, with a startled heart, and then I went
home slowly, saying to myself: How in the world did he guess my
secret, and what did he mean? Was there a warning in his words? And
what is all this about the Queen? Did he ever see her in his life? for
if he had, he would long ago have discovered that all his rules have
exceptions, of which Táráwalí is one: being not only the very gem
beyond comparison that he spoke of with contempt, but a woman of women
who very certainly never would despise any one at all, least of all
the man who thought her exactly what she is, a star, far, far above
his own muddy earth: a thing made of some rare celestial matter,
differing altogether from anything to be found here below, fetched by
the Creator when he meant to make her from some abysmal intermundane
mine, where ocean foam and lunar ooze and sandal-wood and camphor lie
jumbled up together with the essence of all curves and smiles and
whispers and soft kisses and sweet glances and irresolution and long
hair. And the image of the Queen rose up before me, laughing as it
were in scorn at Haridása, and utterly obliterating everything he
said. And I said to myself in ecstasy: Sunset will be here, very soon.
And I reached my house, and looked, and lo! there was sitting at the
door a Rajpoot, covered with the desert's dust, and holding by the
rein a horse that hung its head, trembling still, and white with foam.
And as I came towards him, he stood up, and made obeisance. And he
said: Maháráj, thou art come at last, and it was time. And I said:
What is the matter? Then he said: Thy mother sent me, and I have
ridden night and day. The King thy father is dying, and every moment
he may be dead. And now, if thou carest, either for thy father, or thy
mother, or thy throne, there is only one chance for thee, to fly to
them as fast as any horse can take thee, without the delay of a single
moment. So my message is delivered, and the Maháráj is judge.
And again he made obeisance, and went away on foot, leading his horse
behind. And I stood, looking after him in a stupor, like one struck by
a bolt from heaven, in the form of his appalling news. And I said to
myself: Go I must, or my mother is ousted, and the _ráj_ lost. And yet
if I go, the sun will set in the Queen's garden, and I shall not be
there.
And I pushed my door wide open, and went in, and sat down, with my
face buried in my hands. And my own words sang in my head, over and
over again: Go I must, or the _ráj_ is lost, and my mother ousted. And
the sun will set in the Queen's garden, and I shall not be there.
And I heard a laugh beside me, and I looked up. Lo! there was
Chaturiká, standing in the open door! And she looked at me with
laughing eyes, and she said: Ha! as it seems, I am just in time to
save thy life: for thou art apparently all but dead. And, beyond a
doubt, the Queen is a cunning doctor, who understands her patient's
case. For she sent me to thee, saying: Go to him, O Chaturiká, since
without thee he will die: and help him, how thou canst, to live until
the sun has set.
And I stood up, and seized my hair with both my hands. And I groaned
aloud, and said: Alas! O Chaturiká, what is a man to do, when two suns
set, in opposite directions? And instantly, all the laughter died out
of her face. And she looked at me with dark eyes, and she said: Two
suns! What dost thou mean? And I told her all, and she listened in
silence, till I ended. And then she said, with a sigh of relief: Ah!
is that all? And I exclaimed: All? is it not enough for thee? And she
said: I was terrified, by thy talking of two suns. For I began to
think the Queen had a rival in thy affection. And I laughed, in anger
and derision, and I exclaimed: A rival! Thou little fool! I am sorely
tempted to beat thee, for daring to think anything of the kind, even
in a dream. What! a rival! to Táráwalí! Thou art stark mad. How could
she possibly have a rival in the three worlds? But what am I to do?
And she said: It is thy choice, not mine. Only when once a sun has
set, who can tell, if it will ever rise again? And what am I to say to
the Queen?
And as she stood, looking at me, for an answer, there rose into my
recollection the image of Táráwalí, leaning towards me in the
moonlight, and saying: To-morrow, at sunset, I will be thy dream. And
suddenly I exclaimed: Go back to her, O Chaturiká, and tell her that
my only sun is the sun that sets in a Queen's garden.
And then, to my astonishment, that singular Chaturiká suddenly threw
herself into my arms, and kissed me without waiting to be asked. And
seeing me look at her in perplexity, she burst out laughing, and she
said with delight: Ah! ah! So then, after all, there is a difference,
as it seems, between Chaturiká and Táráwalí. No doubt some kisses are
far sweeter, but the sun must set, ere the lovely digit of the moon
rises, and I must do what I can meanwhile, to help thee to keep alive.
It was her own order. And moreover she will not be jealous, and will
not scold me when I tell her all about it on my return. And I said:
Nay, thou saucy little beauty, tell her with all my heart, and add,
that her drug was efficacious, since sandal-wood and camphor turn
everything that touches them into a little bit of fragrance exactly
like their own. And take her hand, and kiss it, and say I send the
kiss, like her message, by thy mouth, and here it is.
And I caught her in my arms, and kissed her as she struggled, not
willing this time to be kissed at all, exactly on her laughing lips,
and then she went away.