And at the sight of her, my heart leaped into my mouth, for she
resembled the very last link that joined me to the Queen, in a
feminine form. But at the very moment that I saw her, she saw me also;
and she turned away, pretending not to see me, and went round the
corner into another street. And instantly, I leaped after her like a
deer, and caught her, almost running to escape me. And then, seeing
that there was absolutely no help for it, she stopped, and stood
looking at me with defiance, like an animal at bay.
And presently I said: Dost thou not know me, that thou runnest so fast
to get away? And she said: I never saw thee: I was only in a hurry.
And I said: Now, from bad, it is worse; thou art lying. And why,
instead of running away, art thou not rather hastening to meet me?
Hast thou no message for me from the Queen? And she said: No: none.
And I exclaimed: What! none? Did not my message come to thee? And she
said, reluctantly: It came. Then I said: Then the Queen must know that
I am here. And why has she never sent? And Chaturiká said: Is it for
me to give orders to the Queen? How can I know why she does not want
thy presence? If she did, she would send. I am not the mistress, but
only the maid: is Chaturiká the equal of Táráwalí?
And as she spoke, the tears rose into my eyes, for I remembered the
words of Táráwalí, as she stood up in the boat. And I took her by the
hand, and looked into her eyes. And I said slowly: Thou knowest only
too well, for if thou art not her equal, thou art at least her
familiar. And now, then, cheat me not: since the matter is to me one
of life or death. Am I thy enemy, or art thou mine? Was it not only
the other day that thou didst kiss me of thy own accord, as I have
sat, these last two days, hoping against hope for thee to come and do
again? And what have I done, to bring about such change? I liked thee
better, far better, laughing: thou wert so joyous, and so pretty, and
like the ecstasy in my own heart, in a woman's form. Aye! as I looked
at thee, it made my heart echo, to hear thee laugh, since we were both
of us devotees of one and the same deity, Táráwalí, thy Queen and
mine. And now, something has come about, I know not how, to spoil it
all.
And as I spoke, all unconsciously I gripped the hand that I held of
hers in mine, and it may be, that my hand whispered to her own what my
voice alone strove in vain to say. For as I gazed at her in anguish,
with tears in my eyes, strange! all at once I saw her face change, and
her lip quiver, and tears stealing, as if against her will, into her
eyes too. And she tried to laugh, without succeeding: and all at once,
she squeezed my hand that held her own, with force. And she said, in a
voice that trembled as it spoke, half laughing and half weeping:
Nectar when she turns towards thee: poison when she turns away. And
suddenly she snatched her hand away from mine, and turned as if to
go.
And I took her by the shoulder as she stood with her face averted, and
I said: See, Chaturiká, my life is in thy hands. Come, do me this last
favour, and I will never trouble thee any more. Wilt thou go straight
to the Queen, and say I met thee in the street, and somehow or other,
by hook or crook, contrive, that she shall send for me again, and very
soon, for otherwise I cannot live much longer? Wilt thou? Wilt thou?
And she hung her head, and said in a voice so low that I could hardly
hear it: I will try. And I said: Go then, for I will delay thee no
longer. And yet, listen! Come to me often, as thou art passing by, for
the very sight of thee is life.
And without speaking, she rolled her head up in her veil, and went
away very quickly. And I stood, looking after her as she went: saying
to myself: There goes my last hope. And lucky for me it was that I
caught her: for without her, I would by this have driven my own sword
home into my heart.