THE HERD
If anything could have added to my wretchedness it would have been this
failure to find the kind Hermit.
What was to become of me? accustomed as I had been for so long to
living among men--petted and cherished by all?
Oh! why did no wise suggestion now come to me? Why did I not think of
returning to the Palace of Golconda, where very likely my absence had
not yet been discovered?
Alas! jealousy and murderous hatred still governed me; it was necessary
that I should suffer and be punished; and the wise counsel which might
have spared me so many trials never entered my head.
I wandered aimlessly through glades and thickets, penetrating
desperately to the wildest parts of the forest. And now a new distress
was added to my misery. If I had, like men, the faculty of blushing,
I would blush to say that hunger was now torturing me. I ought not,
perhaps, at such a time to have given a thought to so commonplace a
necessity as food; but, I repeat, our race supports less than any other
the lack of nourishment; and, during my long life, I have seen so many
men yield to the mere fear of hunger, that I trust I shall not be
criticised too severely for my weakness.
I was, then, very sorrowful--and very hungry! I gathered here and
there a few half-dead leaves, or a bunch of thin grass--but what could
they do to sustain me? I was beginning to despair, when I heard in the
distance a sound which I recognized as the trumpeting of elephants.
This encouraged me. I said to myself:
"These Elephants whom I hear are, no doubt, Wild Elephants; still, I
will try to touch their hearts, and, perhaps, seeing my distress, they
will admit me to their Herd."
This thought inspired me with a little confidence, and I made my way
towards that part of the forest whence the sounds proceeded. They
continued to reach me at intervals, and, guided in this way, I reached
after a while an opening in the woods, in which twenty large Elephants
were resting, reclining on the ground.
In the centre of the clearing was a great heap of fruits and fresh
vegetables. (The Elephants are accustomed to separate at night, and go
through the fields and near-by plantations, to forage for food, and
they return bringing with them what they have been unable to eat, and
make of it a common stock of provisions.)
I saw them quietly enjoying their repast; from time to time, one would
extend his trunk and select a fruit or vegetable from the heap, and
tranquilly munch it, as if quite sure that nothing would come near to
disturb them, or to interfere with their meal.
Several were sleeping; and yet, in spite of the calm and peaceful
appearance of these Elephants, one felt they were savage and ready
to defend themselves fiercely against any intrusion. I trembled as I
approached them!
I was thinking how I could best attract their attention, when one of
them saw me, and with a hoarse cry, gave the alarm to his companions.
Instantly those who had been eating stopped, and those who were asleep
awoke. They all looked at me, and in those looks I could see no sign
of sympathy for him who had disturbed them. I was on the point of
taking flight--but hunger held me fast, and I said humbly, in elephant
language, something like this:
"My Brothers, I am a very unfortunate and friendless creature, who has
no wish to offend you. I have been for a long time wandering about,
without food or shelter, and if you do not assist me I shall soon die
of hunger. Have pity upon me! Give me a little of your provisions, and
I will in return be glad to render you any service in my power!"
These words had no effect. They said to themselves:
"This is a _White_ Elephant--and no doubt sick; at any rate he is not
like us. Why should we allow him to come among us?"
[Illustration: "HE IS WHITE, AND THAT IS ALL THE MORE REASON FOR
SENDING HIM OFF"]
One Elephant, who was taller and more powerful than the others, and who
seemed to be a leader among them, said roughly:
"We should never take in strangers. We should beware of all new-comers,
and far from treating them with kindness, we should chase them away.
Even if this Elephant were dark like us, he has no business here; he
was not born in this clearing. He is _White_, and that is a still
stronger reason for sending him off!"
At this all the Elephants cried out with one voice:
"Yes! Yes!--let him go!"
Then they all turned to me and cried:
"_BEGONE! BEGONE_!..."
I tried to speak again, but their cries became more fierce. Many rose
up and threatened me with their tusks. Alone as I was against twenty
Elephants--what could I do?... Then, too, my life among kindly and
affectionate masters, and my occupation of watching over and serving
the sweetest and gentlest of Princesses, had rendered me averse to
fighting.... I did not like quarrels. Their furious screams shocked
and horrified me, and I left the clearing where for a moment I had
hoped to find refuge.
I saw now that I had nothing to hope from my fellow-elephants.
Everywhere it would be the same. I should be treated as an intruder. I
remembered how, even in my infancy, when I lived in the forest of Siam,
I had been looked on with dislike by my companions of the Herd, because
of my white colour--the very thing that had caused me to be welcomed
by men. How then would it be with strangers? even if less savage than
those I had just left?
It would always be the same.... No herd would ever consent to receive
me.