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.