FATKOURA.
The captive of the lord of Tosa found her days long and monotonous.
She waited for her avenger, sure of his coming, but impatient at the
delay. She was tormented by the love, steadily gaining strength, with
which Tosa pursued her. After the execution of the man whom he supposed
to be Nagato, he had abstained from visiting her; then, seeing that
Fatkoura's grief was not violent, and that she seemed resigned, he
took courage and renewed his importunities. Sometimes he was humble,
submissive, suppliant; sometimes he raged and stormed; and again, he
would try to melt her by his tears. But she was still implacable.
"Your tears," said she, "are like the tiger's, when he fears his victim
will escape him."
"You shall never escape me," shouted Tosa.
Fatkoura was severe with Tika; she saw that the maid favored the
Prince's love. Tika schemed to make her mistress Princess of Tosa. "The
Prince of Nagato is dead!" thought she. "Besides, Fatkoura was quickly
consoled for his loss."
"You are free now," she said to her mistress one day; "you can love the
Prince of Tosa."
"I shall never love any one but Iwakura," was the young woman's answer.
"Love a dead man! That won't last," thought Tika.
But from that day forth Fatkoura ceased to talk to her; she did not
even permit the girl to remain in her presence. Tika wept outside
the door; her mistress pretended not to hear her. Yet she missed
her maid more than she was willing to confess. This companion of
her misfortunes, this confidant of her griefs and her sorrows, was
a necessity of her life. Captivity seemed harder to her since she
had exiled her from her side; she especially missed the girl's
conversation. Finally, she resolved to forgive her, and to confess to
her that the Prince still lived. She accordingly summoned her.
The repentant Tika knelt in the centre of the room, hid her face behind
her flowing sleeves, and her tears fell fast.
"You will never mention the Prince of Tosa to me again," said Fatkoura.
"Never, mistress," sobbed Tika; "except to curse him."
"Well, I forgive you. Talk to me of my beloved as you used to do."
"Alack! he is dead," said Tika; "I can only mourn with you."
"Don't you think I was speedily consoled?"
Tika, in surprise, looked up at her mistress, who smiled.
"Why, I thought--" she stammered, "I thought he was wrong to submit to
defeat in your presence."
"What if I were to tell you that he was never defeated, that he is
alive--."
"He triumphs over your heart; he lives in your imagination: that is
what you mean."
"No; he still breathes the breath of life."
"Alas, that is impossible! Before our eyes--I shudder to think of it
still--his ghastly head fell to the ground."
"That man, whose death we witnessed, was not Iwakura."
"Has grief affected her reason?" thought Tika, scrutinizing her
mistress in some alarm.
"You think me mad?" said Fatkoura, "You shall see, when he comes to
open the doors of our prison, whether I speak the truth.".
Tika dared not contradict her mistress; she pretended to believe that
Nagato lived. "Better this strange hallucination than her former blank
despair!" she thought.
They then began to talk of the absent one as had been their wont in the
Dairi. They recalled the words that he had spoken, the anecdotes he had
told. They tried to imitate the tones of his voice. They reconstructed
his every dress, rehearsed, his features, his smile, his attitude.
Often they would hold a long discussion over some detail or date, or a
simple phrase which he had uttered. In this fashion the hours glided
rapidly by.
Every day the Prince of Tosa sent presents to Fatkoura,--flowers, rare
birds, marvellous fabrics. Every day Fatkoura let the birds fly, threw
the silks and flowers from the window. The Prince never wearied. At
noon he would pay a visit to the prisoner, and discourse of his love.
One day, however, he entered Fatkoura's room with a strange expression
on his face.
He dismissed Tika with a gesture that suffered no reply; then he
stepped towards Fatkoura, and gazed at her fixedly.
"You are firmly resolved to resist me still?" said he, after a pause.
"Now and always; and to hate as much as I despise you."
"That is your final answer? Think again."
"I do not need to think. I hated you from the first moment I saw you; I
shall hate you to my death."
"Very well!" cried the Prince, in a terrible voice; "I can force you to
become my wife."
"I defy you to do so," said Fatkoura, who never quailed before the
Prince's gaze.
"I will conquer you, I swear, as I conquered your lover."
Fatkoura smiled scornfully.
"Yes," resumed the Prince, "you have exhausted my patience. My love
made me merciful, timid,--even shy. I implored, I wept, I waited!
I left your grief time to heal. Your repeated refusals inflamed my
passion; I was enraged; then I humbled myself. But I am tired of this
prolonged torture; my prayers are over. No more gentleness, no more
tears; you must henceforth be the one to weep and entreat. For the last
time, will you love me?"
"Truly you have a singular nature," said Fatkoura. "The vulture does
not seek gratitude from the bird he strangles in his clutch; and you
insist on love from a woman whose husband you have killed!"
"I know that you can never love me," said Tosa. "Still, you shall say
that you do; you shall strive to make me think you do."
"I am curious to learn what means you will employ to make me say such
things."
"You will know them soon enough," said the Prince, withdrawing.
From that day a series of sufferings for the prisoner began. At first
they separated her from Tika, and locked her into her room; then they
stopped up the windows, only letting a few rays of light enter from
above. In this way Fatkoura was deprived of seeing the gardens, and
of the cool evening air. She was served with food she did not like.
Gradually, all utensils for her personal use disappeared. Each day made
her situation worse. At last none of the servants would wait on her.
She was put into a prison cell, and finally removed to a dungeon, where
she had to wait all day for a bowl of cold rice.
"These are the means he takes to win my love!" said Fatkoura, sustained
by a hope of rescue.
But one day, abruptly, these stern measures ceased. The young woman was
brought back to the rooms which she had at first occupied. Tika was
restored to her, and seemed very happy.
"The province of Tosa is invaded," she exclaimed. "An army is at hand;
we shall be set free."
"I told you he would come, my lord, my beloved spouse!" said Fatkoura.
"He comes to deliver us from our troubles, and to avenge the man who
died so bravely in his place."
"I heard no mention of any one but General Signenari, sent by the
Shogun."
"Be assured that Iwakura is with him."
"It may be so," said the girl.
"It is so! I shall see him again at last! After so many trials,
happiness will return! Is anything known of the fight?"
"The Prince of Tosa set off hurriedly. His soldiers, who did not expect
this attack, and were resting on their laurels, were completely beaten.
The Shogun's army is but a few leagues away."
"It will soon be beneath these walls," said Fatkoura, "and we shall
have to undergo a second siege. But while at Hagui we longed for
victory, we now tremble with desire to be vanquished."
Several days passed in feverish expectation. Suddenly, the Prince of
Tosa's army, put to rout, returned to the fortress in confusion. The
gates were closed, and the siege began. The assailants, leaving the
besieged no time for reflection, stormed the place.
A terrible uproar filled the castle. Within, were dismay, continual
coming and going, shouts and cries; without, uninterrupted blows. Tika
ran in search of news; returned; then started out again. On the third
day, the soldiers suddenly rushed to one point: a breach was effected.
Cries of discouragement rose on all sides.
"Better surrender."
"We can't hold out long."
"We are lost."
Towards noon the Prince of Tosa entered Fatkoura's room abruptly. She
was standing by the window, looking out; her face was radiant with joy.
She turned, and saw her enemy gazing at her with folded arms. A sort
of instinctive terror took possession of her as she beheld him. He was
pale, with a sinister expression. In his right hand he grasped a bloody
sword, which dripped upon the floor. He quietly returned it to his belt.
"The battle is lost," he said, with a scowl; "I am conquered."
"The man whom you thought to dishonor is at your gates, and comes to
chastise your crimes," said Fatkoura.
"Ah! You know that Nagato is not dead," cried the Prince. "But what
does it matter? He is there, it is true; he comes to deliver you: but
before he takes you back," he added, in tones of thunder, "before he
crosses the crumbling walls of my castle,--mark me well!--you shall be
mine."
Fatkoura sprang back, and darted to the farthest corner of the room.
"You may fancy," continued Tosa, "that I did not abandon the field for
nothing. The victors are at my heels; there is no time to be lost in
idle entreaties." As he said this he sprang towards her.
"Help!" she shrieked in an agonized voice; "Tika, help! Nagato, come to
my rescue!"
Tosa laid his hand upon her mouth. "What's the use of shrieking?" said
he; "nobody will come. Submit! for you are mine at last; you shall not
escape me now."
He encircled her with his arms; but all at once he saw something gleam
above him. Fatkoura had snatched a dagger from the Prince's belt.
"You are wrong; I shall escape you yet once again," said she. "My last
thought is for you, Iwakura!"
Tosa uttered a loud cry. He saw the dagger buried to the hilt in the
young woman's breast; then she drew it out and threw it to the ground.
At that instant the panel which closed the entrance flew in splinters.
The Prince of Nagato, sword in hand, rushed into the room and leaped
upon the Prince of Tosa.
"Ah, wretch!" he shouted; "you insult your captive and my betrothed!
You add this unparalleled crime to all your former misdeeds! But the
hour of vengeance is at hand; the earth shall be rid of you!"
Tosa had drawn his sword; he struck it against Nagato's blade. But he
shuddered; a superstitious fear froze his blood; he felt that he was
about to die.
Iwakura, with irresistible force, drove him back to the other side
of the room, and brought him to a stand against the wall. Tosa, with
bloodshot eyes, glared wildly at his foe; he could but ill defend
himself. Nagato dashed the sword from his hand.
"Now you shall die!" he cried; "I will kill you,--not as a man frees
himself of a loyal enemy, but as he would crush a scorpion." And with
one fearful blow, he nailed him to the wall by the throat.
Fatkoura had not fallen. She stood leaning against the wall, her hand
pressed to her wound. The blood gushed between her fingers. The Prince
of Nagato left his enemy writhing in awful agony, and ran to her; he
saw the blood flowing in rivers.
"What is it?" he cried.
"I am dying," said Fatkoura.
She sank to the ground. The Prince knelt beside her, and supported her
on his knees.
"Is there no one here?" he cried. "Let some one bring a doctor."
"I implore you," said Fatkoura, "do not call; nothing can heal my
wound. It was to prevent a stain upon your name that I struck home; I
cannot be saved. Let no one enter; let me die by your side, as I could
not live there."
"Unfortunate girl! and I have brought you to this!" cried the Prince.
"You die for me after a life of suffering,--you, so fair, so young,
and so formed for happiness? Ah! why was I placed upon your path?"
"I was happy for a time," said Fatkoura, "very happy; for you seemed to
love me. But I have dearly paid for those days of joy. What did I do to
you, cruel one, that you should desert me as you did?"
"You guessed the reason, sweet Princess. An all-powerful, invincible
love turned me from you; my will refused to obey my reason any longer."
"Yes! how can we struggle against love? I know the power it gains, I,
who vainly strove to hate you. Yes! you have felt those sharp pangs,
that aimless expectation, those fevered dreams, those hopes that would
not die; you have known those sobs which would not be stifled, those
tears that burned like drops of fire. A prey to hopeless love, you
suffered as I did. Is it not frightful, and can you not pity me?"
"I would give my life to repair the harm I have done you."
"There is no rest by night or day, is there? It seems as if you were at
the foot of a precipice lined with steep rocks, which you fain would
climb, yet fall back again and again. But I am mad," added Fatkoura;
"your suffering was nothing as compared to mine, for you were loved."
The Prince started.
"Yes, she loved you; I know it," resumed Fatkoura, with a faint sigh.
"Do you think that the jealous eye of the woman you scorned could fail
to read her face I--how its pride died away when she looked at you; how
her voice, against her will, would soften when she spoke to you; what
happy tremors when you came, what sadness when you went! I watched and
noted all; each discovery was like a sword thrust into my heart; rage,
hate, and love devoured my soul. No, you never suffered as I did."
"Do not overwhelm me, Fatkoura!" said the Prince. "I did not deserve
such love; see how I have rewarded it! You are dying for my sake, and
I cannot save you. The horrible grief that rends me at this moment
avenges you for much of the suffering that I have caused you."
"I am happy now," said Fatkoura. "I might have died before you came;
and I am with you."
"But you shall not die!" cried the Prince. "Am I mad, that I stand
here, stunned by horror, instead of bringing you help, or having your
wound dressed? You are young; you will recover."
"Why should?" said Fatkoura. "Would you love me then?"
"I would love you then as now, with an infinite affection."
"With a brother's love," Fatkoura whispered, with a bitter smile. "Let
me die."
"Alas! that blood which flows so fast, and bears your life with it!"
exclaimed the Prince, frantic with grief.
He began to utter frenzied shouts. They were heard. Soldiers and
servants rushed in. General Signenari also appeared, still stained with
blood from the battle. All stood aside, to let him pass.
"What is the matter, Prince?" he cried.
"A doctor, for Heaven's sake, and at once!" said Nagato. "My betrothed
has stabbed herself, to escape the outrages of the infamous Tosa; she
is dying."
Fatkoura had fainted.
The palace doctor soon came. He bared the wound, and when he saw it, he
looked anything but encouraging. "She did not spare herself," he said.
"Can she be saved?" asked the Prince of Nagato.
The doctor shook his head. "I think not," said he; "the steel went in
too deep. If I were to dress the wound, I might stanch the blood; but
it would still flow from within, and suffocate her."
"And if you do not stanch the wound?"
"She will die in a very few moments."
The doctor brought the edges of the wound together. As he touched the
sensitive spot, Fatkoura never stirred. He shook his head again. "A bad
sign," he muttered.
When the dressing was done, he forced between the young woman's lips
the neck of a small bottle holding a strengthening cordial, and made
her drink it. Fatkoura soon re-opened her eyes; she still lay across
Nagato's knees. Tika sobbed at her feet. She cast an uneasy look at
those who filled the room; with a slow and painful gesture signed to
them to go. Signenari dismissed them, and withdrew; only the doctor and
Tika remained.
"You disobeyed me, Iwakura," said the dying girl in a voice which grew
ever weaker; "why did you call in help?"
"To save you."
"I am lost. Saved, rather," she added; "what should I do in this world?"
Spasms seized her; she stretched out her arms; the blood choked her.
"Air!" she gasped.
Tika flew to open all the windows, and her mistress saw her.
"Good-by, Tika," she said; "you see that he was not defeated, that he
was not dead! We shall never talk of him again."
The girl wept, with her face buried in her hands. Fatkoura raised her
eyes to the Prince.
"Let me look at you," she said; "it is so long since my eyes have
mirrored your image. How handsome you are, my beloved!--You know," she
went on, turning to the doctor, "he is my husband. He came to set me
free; but Tosa would have outraged me, and I killed myself."
She spoke in a dull, broken voice, growing weaker and weaker. Her eyes
opened wide; a waxen pallor over-spread her face.
"You will speak of me to your father, Iwakura," she resumed; "he loved
me well! I told him that I should never see the castle again. I was
almost happy there. I saw the room where you were born, your baby
dresses--Ah! I have loved you fondly!"
She gasped; drops of sweat stood on her brow. She tore the bandage from
her wound.
"Iwakura!" she said, "I cannot see you; lean over me--nearer--Ah!" she
shrieked, "to go when he is here!"
"She is dying!" cried the agonized Prince.
"She is dead," said the doctor.
Tika uttered a howl of grief. The Prince hid his face in his hands.
"All her sufferings are over now," said the doctor; "she is at rest,
and forgets her troubles in the serene tranquillity of the last sleep."