to escape from thee. And how could I plunge into the water, unless I
were a fish? Then he said: Dear, did thy father never tell thee of the
nymphs that have their homes beneath the water? Or hast thou forgotten
what he said? Or is it as I said, that thou thyself art one of them,
seeking to deceive me? And she said: But what should lead thee to
believe it? And he said: Every reason. For they are all marvellously
beautiful, as thou art, and like thee, they suddenly appear, seated by
pools and streams, and lure unhappy travellers like me to ruin and
destruction. Then she said: And by what means do they destroy them?
And the King said: Blue-eyes, by showing themselves for but an instant,
and then disappearing, never to return, carrying away with them the
hearts of their miserable victims, and leaving them instead
inconsolable regret, and lovelorn longing for the beauty whose
momentary vision robbed them of their soul. Therefore beware! and let
me warn thee, that once having shown thyself, thou art absolutely bound
to remain with me for ever: otherwise I shall be utterly undone. For
if not, thou wert very wrong ever to have shown thyself at all, and
deservest to be punished as a deceiver and a Thag.
Then she laughed, with laughter that was music to the King's ear. And
she said, softly: But this is very hard: for how can those poor
water-women help it, and is it any fault of theirs if they happen to be
seen by those who happen to pass by and are not blind? Nor was it my
fault, if I was seen by thee: rather was it thine, for coming into my
wood upon thy horse. Then the King said: Blue-eyes, I blame thee not
at all, always provided that thou dost not jump into the water, or
leave me in any other way. And she said: But is it not rather I that
have to be afraid, lest thou shouldst leave me? Is it my sex only that
deceives, and are there no water-men, as well as water-women? And the
King said eagerly: Ah! dear Blue-eyes, and would it be a grief to thee,
if I should go away? And she waited a little while, before she
replied. And then she said, looking at him with playful eyes: Didst
thou not say thyself that this world was full of men? And if, then,
one has come into the wood to-day, another may to-morrow. And the King
started, and he looked at her with rapture. And he said to himself:
Ha! she is provoking me, and ah! she is delicious. Surely the very
elements must have in them the nature of a woman, since even in this
empty wood, this intoxicating maiden has somehow or other managed to
acquire the coquetry of her sex: most of all charming there, where it
was least to be expected. And then he said aloud: Dear little daughter
of an Apsaras, let thine other man beware, whoever he may be: for I
will set guards about the wood, like a ring, to put to death whoever
they may find.
Then she looked at him a little while, and she said: See, I have told
thee all I have to tell, but thou hast told me absolutely nothing. Art
thou then a king, to speak of placing guards about the wood? And the
King said to himself: Ha! she is clever, and has caught me in a trap.
And yet I will not tell her who I am, for if she knew, she might be
dazzled by my kingdom, and fall in love with that, rather than with me.
And he said: Surely, as we agreed in the beginning, if thou art a
queen, I must be a king. And I will not allow any other man to tamper
with my queen. And I am of good caste, and a Rajpoot, and not ashamed
of my family. But what if I were in very truth a king, and banished:
wouldst thou follow me through the world, as thou saidst? And she
laughed and said: Nay, but I am not yet thy queen, and to follow thee
is not my duty, but that of thy Queen or Queens. And the King looked
at her narrowly, and said to himself: Is she speaking at random, or can
it be that she is curious, or jealous, and anxious to discover whether
she has a rival? And he said: Blue-eyes, King or not, this is certain,
that I neither have nor will have any queen or queens whatever but
thyself. Nor have I ever seen any woman in the world, till I came into
this wood, that I would wish to make my wife. And therefore tell me,
for as yet thou hast not answered: if I were a king indeed, wouldst
thou come away and be my Queen?
And she said: I am of good family, and not independent[1]; and it is
not for myself, but for my father to dispose of me. And then, the very
instant she had spoken, she uttered a sharp cry, and started to her
feet, and stood. And the King leaped up in terror, exclaiming: Alas,
what is the matter? For he thought she had been bitten by a snake.
But he looked and saw nothing. And he drew near her, and saw that she
was deadly pale, and drooping like a flower left without water in the
heat of noon. And he said again, with anxiety: Alichumbitá: what is
it? But she never answered, but stood silent, gazing at the river, as
though he were not there.
And the King stood just beside her, looking at her with affection and
alarm. And now the light was changing into darkness, for the sun had
sunk behind the western mountain, and on the trees across the river the
disc of the full-moon was sitting waiting like a thief watching the
lord of day away before stealing silently up into his domain. And far
away down the river, a solitary star was shining in the south, below in
the black water, and above in the dark blue sky, over which great bats
were flapping noiselessly, like dusky ghosts coming by night to haunt
the spots they loved as living birds. And the voices of the forest day
had died away, and in their place the insects of the night were calling
to one another to begin: and all about the shadows in the trees the
fireflies were flitting in and out. And the King heard his horse
whinnying and pawing on the ground, impatient at being tied so long,
and fretting to be gone.
[1] No woman in India, even in a fairy tale, is ever independent and
her own mistress, unless she belongs to a class outside the pale of
moral consideration.
VII
TWILIGHT
And still as she did not move, at last the King broke silence. And he
said: Dear, I know not what is wrong, but I would give my life, to save
thee from even a very little pain. And now the day is done, and very
soon it will be night. Dost thou not hear the horse, calling, and
telling me it is time to be away? And yet I cannot leave thee, if I
would. And now again I ask thee, wilt thou not come away with me from
this dark wood, and live and play with me for ever, as we have done
to-day? For in the time that we have been together, thou hast taken
absolute possession of my soul, and filled it with thyself, leaving no
other room in it, so that everything except thee is utterly ousted and
forgotten and obliterated. And I feel as if I had known thee, not for
an hour, but for a hundred thousand years: and it cannot be but that we
were King and Queen in many births before, and destined by reason of
the depth of our devotion to meet again in this one also. And I will
make thy life all that I said, and more: and I will be thy father and
thy mother and thy other self, reflecting thee as in a mirror, joyous
when thou art joyous, and sad when thou art sad. And if thou dost
regret to leave thy father and the wood, no matter: for I will bring
thee back to it, as often as thou wilt. And we will make this little
temple as it were a pleasure arbour, to last us till we die, and remind
me for ever of the moment when I saw thy two great eyes, like two great
blue lotus flowers, looking at me, out of the magic shadow of the wood.
And then all at once, she burst into a passion of tears. And she said
sobbing: Now thou must go away, almost as soon as thou art come. Why
didst thou come into the wood, only to destroy me? For till I saw
thee, I was happy, and I took pleasure in the river, and the flowers
and the trees: but now they are all become hateful in my eyes. For I
cannot bear to let thee go, and be without thee: and yet I cannot keep
thee, or go with thee from the wood. And the King said, in despair:
Alas! and why canst thou not come away? Then she said: As my father
wishes me to marry, so I must. But thy coming took me by surprise, and
robbed me of my reason: and lost in the joy of thy discovery, and
watching thee, and listening to thy voice, I had utterly forgotten
everything but thee; and I suddenly remembered, as I told thee of my
father, all about it, and now it is a grief to me that ever I saw thee
in the wood. And now all is over, and everything is changed, and thou
must go away at once, and leave me to forget, if I can, that ever I
have seen thee. For I cannot disobey my father, or bring discredit on
my family, by having anything to do with thee: for I am intended for
another. And the King exclaimed: Ah! no! it cannot be. Surely thou
art raving. Or who can it be, for whom thou art preserved by thy
father, as a deposit and a trust? And he said to himself: Only let me
learn who it is, and I will find him, no matter who and where he is,
and rid the earth of him, and get her for myself.
Then she said: Far away in the north, on the edge of the wood, there is
a King, Rudrálaka by name: and one day he will come into the wood and
claim me for his bride. For so it was revealed to my father, when he
enquired of my mother, long ago, to whom he should give me, when I was
of age. And my mother went to Indra, and asked him; and Indra asked
Maheshwara, who knows the present, the future, and the past. And how
can he be deceived, or how can that which he foretold fail to come to
pass? And now I see very well that it was a crime in me, ever to have
had anything to do with thee: and in the madness produced by thy
appearance, I have acted in a manner unworthy of my caste: for I am the
promised bride of another man. And now there is nothing but for thee
to go away as quickly as thou canst, and forget that ever thou didst
see me in the wood.
And the King stood still behind her as she spoke, filled with amazement
and relief. And he watched her weeping, with pride and delight; and he
said to himself: Certainly she is of good family, and its very
crest-jewel, and like a diamond of pure water; for she will not come
away with me, but is faithful to her duty, even against her will. But
once again I will test her, like gold in the fire, before I tell her
who I am. But what, if she does not stand the test? Why, then I will
forgive her: for how could I blame her for yielding and allowing
herself to be defeated in my cause? But if she stands firm, and
resists me, then I shall know that my pearl is priceless, and my
emerald without a flaw.
And then he said aloud: Out upon this Rudrálaka, for he is like a cloud
that has suddenly intervened, to cast a dark and horrid shadow over our
sunny garden of delight, and an obstacle which only the lord of
obstacles can move. And what is this Rudrálaka, to prevail over the
lord of the elephant face in conjunction with the God who has flowers
for his bow?[1] And cannot I persuade thee to forget, one whom thou
hast never even seen, and who is to thee nothing but a name? And who
knows even whether he exists at all, and is not merely a dream of thy
father's, an illusion brought into his aged head by weakness arising
from severe emaciation? And wilt thou then sacrifice thy happiness and
mine to a dream? And he waited for a moment, and he said: See, thou
art undecided, wavering between thy duty and my love, like a flower
shaken by opposing breezes. A flower thou art, and a flower shall
decide for thee. And this red lotus, which has lingered so long near
thy heart that it must know it, and resembles it in colour, shall be
the oracle of thy destiny. And he leaned over her, and took very
gently, without touching her, the lotus on her breast, and drew it
away, while she offered no resistance. And he said: One petal is for
thee, and one for me. Now will I pluck the petals one by one, first
for thee, and second for myself. And if thine is the last, thou shalt
stay, and I will go away without thee: and if mine, thou shall cast
away Rudrálaka, like the stalk when it is stripped of the leaves, and
forget him, and come with me and be my wife.
And then, one by one, he began to strip the red lotus of its leaves,
and let them fall upon the ground, saying as he did so: This, for thee:
this, for me. And as he counted, she watched him, with tears sparkling
in her eyes, till only one remained. And he held it out towards her,
saying, with a smile: This, for me. And then, all at once she broke
into a laugh that was mingled with sobs and sorrow and indignation.
And she exclaimed: Ah! thou art cunning, and thou art very cruel. Thou
knewest very well that there were but sixteen petals on the lotus,[2]
and that thine must be the last. And thou art unkind, prolonging my
torture, and striving, by unfairness, and temptation, to recall my
resolution: yet if I did, thou wouldst only think the worse of me, even
though thine would be the gain. Go, go quickly, for I may not come
away with thee. And as she spoke, she turned paler than the _Kumuda_
that opens in the dusk, and staggered. And she leaned against a pillar
of the tree, and her eyes shone in the moonlight, and she said very
quietly: Go now, take thy horse, and go away; and go very quickly: for
the decision is too hard for me, and I cannot bear it very long. And
it would be a stain on thee, to tempt any longer the wife of another
man.
And the King gazed at her, struck with admiration and amazement. And
he said to himself: Ha! where is the simple forest maiden who sat to
listen at my feet, for in her place I see one whose virtue I have
roused, and who orders me to go with the dignity of an insulted queen?
And I stand before her like a culprit, rejoicing inwardly at the
failure of my own attempt. And as he stood, lost in wonder at her
moonlit unearthly beauty, and ready to fall and worship at her feet,
suddenly there fell upon his ear a murmur and a rustle in the air. And
he listened, and all at once the horse began to neigh; for it was the
trample of horses and the thunder of their hoofs. And as they looked,
lo! a band of horsemen issued from the wood, and came towards them; and
in a moment they were surrounded by the attendants of the King.
[1] Ganesha and Kama, the gods of good luck and love; certainly two
formidable antagonists.
[2] It is one of the conventions of Hindoo poetry that the petals of
the lotus are eight or sixteen in number.
VIII
QUINTESSENCE
And then, with a cry, Alichumbitá sprang back, and stood in dismay, on
the very brink of the river, looking from the King to his followers and
back again. And the King watched her with ecstasy, and he said to
himself: Now could I almost forgive my attendants for this exasperating
interruption. For she looks like a stag whose retreat has been cut off
by the hunters, standing at bay, with every graceful limb quivering and
poised on the very verge of instant action, striking terror as it were
into even the hearts of her pursuers by her magnificent defiance, and
cowing them by the startled pride of her haughty and yet timid eyes,
and holding them as it were spellbound by the beautiful agitation
incarnate in her form, and reaching its supreme expression in the deep
heave of her glorious bosom. And I can see that my followers are
divided in their minds: for all their respect for me cannot prevent
them from transferring their allegiance to her, and doing homage to the
true deity manifest in her lovely shape. Ha! beauty is the real ruler
of the three worlds, and all others are usurpers and pretenders and
emptiness and show. For if I were unknown to them, my followers would
pay me no regard at all: whereas they have all become slaves to my
mistress, as I did myself, by a single glance at her goddess mien.
And then, as his attendants dismounted from their horses, and stood
before him in attitudes of respect, the King called to his chief
huntsman. And he said to him: Tell this lady who they are that stand
before her. Then that huntsman said with deference: Lady, we are a
very few of the devoted followers of King Rudrálaka: and having hunted
for him all day long, we pray now to be forgiven, if we have succeeded
at last in finding him only to be troublesome by our intrusion. And
the King said: Now go, taking my horse; and wait for me a little way
off, yet not beyond a call. Then those huntsmen all retired, stealing
glances as they went at the King's companion, and vanished again within
the wood.
And when they were gone, the King stood awhile in silence, gazing with
affection at Alichumbitá, who was lost in confusion and astonishment.
And then he said: Blue-eyes, now thou hast heard. And will thou now do
thy duty, and obey thy father, and justify the Great God's foresight,
and come away with thy true husband and be his Queen? Or hast thou
still a horror of King Rudrálaka? Ah! forgive me for trying thee, a
thing which I cannot, nevertheless, regret. For thou wert proof
against my bribes, and hast doubled the worth of thy wondrous beauty by
exhibiting the quality of its inner soul. And she stood for a moment,
changing colour, first red, and then white, as if the blood which had
mantled in her face had like those huntsmen withdrawn again into the
wood of her heart from modesty at the sight of him. And as he took her
by the hand, she hid her face against his breast, laughing as she wept,
and raining as it were nectar with her tears into the heart of the
King. So they stood together in the silence, while the King stroked
her dark hair gently with his left hand. And at last he said: Sweet
little Queen, thou hast seen men enough now, for one day. Know, that
they are all thy servants, from the King down.
And suddenly, she raised her face, and looked at him with eyes that
were full of smiles and tears and shyness and playfulness and blue
colour and the tremble of the moon. And she said: Canst thou tell of
what I thought, as I looked upon all those men? And he said: Of what?
Then she said: They seemed to me to be worthy only to be servants to
such as thee: and I saw that it was as I had thought, and that mine was
a man even among men. And then she stopped, and she said again in a
low voice: Now, if thou wilt, I wilt give thee an answer to that
question of thine which I left unanswered. And the King said: Which?
And she said: Dost thou not remember? Thou didst ask me, what was he
like whom I would follow through the world. Now canst thou guess, or
shall I tell thee? And the King leaned over her, bending her a little
back as she lay in his strong arms, and as she closed her eyes, he
kissed her trembling lips, which shrank a little from the touch of his
own. And after a while, he looked, and saw heaven reflected in the
eyes of his wife beneath him, and beyond them, their two shadows,
clinging together, black on the moonlit ground. And suddenly he
pointed, and said to her: See, thy wish is gratified, and thy shadow
has come to life. And she put both her arms round his neck, and drew
him down, and kissed him again. And she said: It is not my shadow, but
it is I myself that have come to life, and thou art the life that has
come to me. And hadst thou gone away without me, I should not be
living now: for I would have thrown myself into the river, the moment I
was alone. And the King said, with a smile: Did I not tell thee, that
I feared lest thou shouldst plunge into the river? And she laughed,
and said: Let me go, and see. And they looked at each other for a
moment, and laughed without a reason. And they embraced each other
passionately, and the King said: Give me now another kiss. So she did.
And he said: Now another, and another. And so they continued, she
giving and he receiving; while the night passed away.
And at last he said: Now I must carry my property away with me, for
thou art no longer thy father's but mine. And we will come again, and
tell thy father, but in the meantime, I will take thee, for never will
I part from thee again. And she said: Do with me as thou wilt: so only
that thou dost not leave me.
Then he said: Blue-eyes, thou hast seen a horse to-day for the first
time, and now thou shalt ride one also. And she said with a smile: But
how can I ride without falling? Then he said: Fear nothing. Dost thou
think that I would trust my treasure on a horse alone? But that good
horse, which brought into the wood to-day a single rider, shall carry
back a pair. And he has run a race to-day that will have robbed him of
his fire. Wait, now, there, for a little while, till I return: and
beware! that thou dost not jump into the water. And as she smiled,
they kissed each other again with insatiable lips. And then he went
towards the wood, and shouted for his men. And when they came, he gave
them orders, and they brought his horse, and prepared him as he said,
placing for her reception soft rugs upon his back. And the King
mounted, and he said: Watch me when I go, and follow me at a distance.
And then he rode back to where she waited for him by the river bank.
Then he came close up to her and said: Give me now thy left hand, and
place thy little foot on mine, and I will lift thee up before me. So
she stretched out to him her hand, shrinking from the horse as it
tossed its head and trampled the ground, and seeking with timidity for
an opportunity to place her foot upon his own. So as she waited,
gazing at the horse with doubtful eyes, the King laughed. And he
exclaimed: This way will not do, and now I must make another. And
suddenly, he turned the horse towards her with his knee, and letting
fall the reins, he leaned from the saddle and caught her in his arms,
and lifted her up before him. And at that moment the horse started
off, and the King felt for the reins with his left hand, holding her in
his right arm, while she clung to his neck for fear of falling. And
for a while the King let the horse go, for the sweetness of her
terrified embrace was such that he said to himself: Ah! could this only
last for ever!
Then after a while, he checked the horse, and brought him to a walk.
And as they went slowly through the forest, now in the shadow and now
in the moonlit glades, he let the reins fall on his horse's neck, and
took his wife in both his arms, kissing her lips that kissed him again,
and murmuring inarticulately words without a meaning, and filling his
soul to the very brim with the intoxication of her shadowy eyes and the
perfume of her hair that hung about her escaping from its knot. And
suddenly, there came as it were night over his eyes. And he felt her
slipping from his embrace, which closed in vain on empty air. And
before him her face wavered and flickered, and it lit up like a dying
lamp for a single instant with vivid brightness, and then went out and
disappeared.
IX
ECHOES AND REGRETS
And in an instant, he saw before him, no wood and no horse. But he
found himself floating as at first like a cloud in the blue sky, with
his wife still in his arms. And he said: Ha! how is this? I lost thee
but now in the forest, and here we are together in the sky. But I seem
to have but just awoken from a dream. And wert thou then with me in my
dream? Then she said: Yes. And as she spoke, she caught him in a
convulsive grasp, for she knew that the end was come. And as she gazed
at him with agony in her eyes, he said: Ah! dost thou remember how we
rode together, and lingered as I brought thee home, in that delicious
wood? Dost thou remember how we laughed, and how we wept for joy?
Dost thou remember how at last thou didst fall asleep from sheer
fatigue, and I carried thee sleeping home? Dost thou remember how I
sat and watched thee in thy sleep, and how at thine awakening thou wast
frightened, forgetting where thou wert? Dost thou remember, how
everything was new to thee, and strange, and how all day long I laughed
for joy to see thee, my plaything and my pretty child? Dost thou
remember how we played at King and Queen, counting the whole world as a
straw, and never parting, night or day? Dost thou remember how thou
wast by day, the sun, and by night, the moon, of all the hours,
lighting up my gloomy palace with the blaze of thy beauty and the soft
light of thy love? Dost thou remember how thy voice echoed in my empty
halls, and thy laughter filled up all its corners with music and
delight? Dost thou remember how I used to follow thee about from room
to room, and how sometimes, rogue! thou wouldst hide from me, to drive
me to despair? Dost thou remember that last night, when I parted from
thee to go to war, leaving my soul behind? But ah! alas! for the day,
when I rode like a whirlwind into the court, and they told me of thy
death!
And as he spoke, there shot through his heart a mortal pang like a
sharp sword. And at that instant, his wife vanished, and he felt
himself falling, falling like a heavy stone, down through empty space.
And he uttered a fearful cry, for he understood that he was returning
swiftly back to earth. And struggling with vain and frenzied grief and
rage, he screamed aloud, in the ecstasy of despair: Ah! my wife! my
wife! Ah! not to earth! ah! not again! not without thee! not without
thee!
Epilogue
The Break of a Heart
Epilogue
But in the meanwhile, the King's attendants sat on in the palace hall,
waiting while the King slept. And he slept on, while they waited, and
they watched him lying very still, on his couch upon the floor.