And as I held her still in my arms, with her own arms round my neck,
she said: Ask. Then I said: Didst thou know, when I came to thee last
time, that my coming delayed me in a matter of life and death? And she
said: Something I knew, from the chatter of Chaturiká. And I said:
Didst thou know that my kingdom depended on my going fast? For as it
is, I lost it, all by coming late. And she said: It was no business of
mine. And I said: What! wouldst thou deprive me of a kingdom, by
placing thyself, for a single sunset, in the other scale? And she
said: I did not bid thee stay. I had sent to thee already, asking thee
to come: and if another summons called thee, after mine, the choice
was thine, between them. I told thee only, I awaited thee: and it was
true. And I said: What if I had not come? And she said: Then it may
be, thou wouldst have kept thy kingdom, and lost thy interview with
me. That is all. It was not I, who had anything to do either with
causing thy dilemma, or determining its conclusion. And I said: Beyond
a doubt, the loss of any kingdom would be a trifle in comparison with
thy affection: and yet the loss is certain, and the affection
doubtful. For I showed thee very plainly which I chose, and my kingdom
is gone. I have thrown it clean away for thy sake. And have I its
equivalent? Wilt thou make it up to me by giving me thy soul? And she
said, gently: It is not mine, to give away, for I belong to Narasinha,
body and soul, as I told thee long ago.
And I said: How canst thou say so, when I hold thee in my arms? And
she said, quietly: Thou art but a momentary accident, due rather to my
yielding myself, against my own will, and of pity for thy unhappy
passion, than to any hold that thou hast on my heart. And Narasinha
learned of thy former visit to me in this garden, as very soon he will
learn of this also, since I tell him every detail of my life, great or
small. And he made me promise never to see thee any more. And so I had
intended: but thou hast managed to steal in, somehow or other, of thy
own accord. It is not by my doing that thou art here now at all.
And I let her go, and stood gazing at her with amazement, that was
mixed with bitter disappointment and irritation, and fierce
exasperation at this obstacle of Narasinha, who, out of my reach, and
hiding behind her as a screen, issued orders that I was to be shut out
of her garden and banished from her presence, whether she would or
not. And my heart swelled with resentment and indignation, and I said:
O Táráwalí, Narasinha may shut his eyes, or not, as he chooses, but I
am very different, and will not take orders as to thee, from him or
anybody else. Thou art my mistress and not his. And she shook her
head, and she said, very gently: Nay, thou dost not understand. I am
not anybody's mistress. I am my own mistress, and do exactly as I
please, whether he or any other like it or not. There lives not the
man who shall say to me: Here is a line, and over it, thou shalt not
step. And whatever I do, I do, of my own free will, not of obedience,
but of my own consent. I have given my body and soul away, but my will
is mine.
And I said with emphasis: I have bought thee at the price of a
kingdom, and become a beggar on thy account, and mine thou art, by
right. Dost thou actually tell me, I am to lose my kingdom, and get
absolutely nothing in exchange? And she said, always with the same
sweet and quiet voice, whose tone never varied, adding by the very
charm of its gentle music fire to the exasperating sting that lay in
the words it said: I have nothing at all to do with thy kingdom, and
if thou hast lost it, I am very sorry: yet blame not me for its loss,
but thyself alone, for the choice was thine. And moreover, I am not
for sale. I give myself, or part of me, to anyone I choose. It is for
dealers and merchants to bargain. I never bargain. I am a Queen. And I
said in wrath: Thou shalt give thyself no longer to anyone but me.
Thou hast already cheated me by making me the loser in a bargain where
I lose all, gaining nothing in exchange. But I will have either my
kingdom or thyself: and if not the kingdom, which is gone, then thee.
And she said quietly: Say nothing rash, or harsh, or ill-considered.
It is not I that have cheated thee out of thy kingdom: it is no one
but thyself.
And I exclaimed: What! didst thou not cheat me by telling me thou
didst love me long ago? And she broke in instantly, and said: I said
nothing of the kind: it is thy own imagination. I never told thee
anything so false as that I loved thee. And I said: Nay, not in words,
but in a language deeper far than any words. What woman ever gave a
man what thou hast given me, without telling him very plainly, he was
the object of her love? And she said quietly: It was but thy own
inference, and utterly unwarranted. And I said: Why didst thou then
allow me to make love to thee at all? And she said, very gently: I did
not ask, nor even wish thee, to make love to me at all. But I was
touched by thy emotion, and thy passion, and thy miserable longing,
and willing to soothe it, and gratify it, for an instant, letting thee
taste that nectar for which thou wert so obviously dying: for I am
kind.
And I exclaimed with a shout: Kind! Why, what is thy kindness but the
very extremity of unkindness? What! and did all thy caresses mean
absolutely nothing? And she said, very gently: They meant exactly what
they were, gifts and boons, bestowed of sheer compassion: and if from
their receipt, thou hast drawn the conclusion that thy affection was
returned, it is not so: it is only thy own unjustified construction,
for thou art not, and never can be, anything to me, but the thing that
thou wilt not be, a mere friend. And I said: What kind of a woman art
thou to betray me with kisses? And she said: I am only what I am: but
thou art most unfair to me, and instead of peevishly demanding of me
what I cannot give, and growing so unreasonably angry, thou oughtest
rather to be very grateful to me, for giving thee anything at all. I
told thee almost as soon as I had seen thee, in the very beginning of
all, that I belonged, body and soul, to Narasinha: and yet
notwithstanding, I took pity on thee, for thy misery, and gave thee,
by concession, what I might very easily have refused, humouring thy
weakness like that of a child, crying for what he cannot have. But
never did I promise thee anything beyond: and I even told thee, if
thou canst remember it, that it might injure thee and could not do
thee any good. But thou wert blind, and as it were buried in thy
dream. Did I not warn thee, and entreat thee beforehand, not to blame
me, when the dream was over, and reality returned? And when I had
surfeited thy longing, and dismissed thee, I meant it to be the end,
for it was all I had to give. In all, it is not I, that have in any
way whatever deceived thee: thou hast all along only deceived thyself.
And if I have deceived at all, it is myself alone I have deceived, by
expecting any gratitude for the boon of my compassion, and the favour
that I poured on thee with no miser's band, because I blamed myself
for being innocently guilty of becoming the unintentional object of
thy passion, and its involuntary cause.