And when I awoke, lo! the moon was standing on the very edge of the
western sky, and dawn was glimmering in the east. And the Queen was
gone! And I leaped out of the boat, which was fastened to the bank,
and ran up into the garden, which was as dark and as empty of anything
living as a tomb. And after looking for her a long time in vain, at
last in despair I went away to the door, and knocked, and it was
opened; and there stood, not the _pratihárí_, but Chaturiká. And I
said: Chaturiká, what has become of the Queen? And she said, with
emphasis: Forget the Queen, and remember thy father: it is time.
And I started, as if she had run a poisoned needle into my ears; for I
had utterly forgotten all about him. And no sooner had I got out of
the palace than I ran all the way home through the empty streets. And
I found my horse waiting, and I sprang on him, just as I was, and I
went out of Kamalapura, making for the desert as if I were running a
race with the god of death, to determine which of us should reach my
father first. And yet as I rode, I was thinking all the time of one
thing only, to return, quicker even than I went away, and listening
to my heart that sang without ceasing Táráwalí, Táráwalí, as if
keeping time to the rattle of the hoofs of the horse. And after a
while, I began to say: If I am to return, it will have to be on
another horse: for whatever else dies, or does not die, this horse
will die, beyond a doubt, either at the end of his race, or it may be,
even before.
And it happened as I said. For suddenly the horse fell, to rise no
more, while yet there was far to go: leaving me alone in the desert,
with the sun right over my head. And I exclaimed: Alas! out upon fate,
and out upon my own folly, for now I have killed my horse, that I
loved better than my own soul! Alas! my horse was like my good
fortune.[29] And if I had only started in the night, he would have had
an easy journey, going slower in the cool hours. And I have offered my
horse a sacrifice, and it may be, my kingdom also, to my deity
Táráwalí. And yet, what does it matter, after all? Is she not worth
all the horses, and all the kingdoms in the world? Aye! I would give
them all, for another sunset like last night, with the lady of my
dream. But what is to be done now? There is absolutely no help for it,
and I must finish my journey how I can, going slowly on my own feet.
And as I said, so I did: and so it came about, that faint and tired
and overcome, by hunger and thirst and the long journey and the
fierceness of the desert sun, I began to reach my own city only as he
was going down. And as I slowly drew near it, making all the haste I
could, suddenly there fell on my ear a sound, coming to me from the
city, that smote it like a blow. And I stopped short, to listen; and
all the hair on my body stood erect. And I said slowly to myself: I
have lost the race, after all, for they are wailing in the city, and
it can be for one thing only, that it is widowed of its King. Aye! I
am too late. And I have killed my horse for nothing, since Death has
arrived before me, after all, having annihilated my competition, by
taking my horse upon the way. And I have reached my journey's end,
just in time to hear the wailing, as if Death were jeering at me,
saying as it were in irony: They must travel very fast who think to
outstrip me.
And I went on to the palace, never stopping at the gate to ask what I
already knew. And they ran to warn my mother, and she came out of the
women's quarters, and stood looking at me grimly, covered as I was
with dust and perspiration, and almost ready to fall down, for sheer
fatigue. And then she said: Fool! thou art too late, and thy brother
has the throne. And now thou art little better than an outcast, and
hast lost thy father, and thy crown, and me.
And I looked at her, and I said: When did the King die? And she said:
Sunset.
And I uttered a shout of laughter, and threw my hands into the air,
and fell at her feet in a swoon.