essence of wonder and irresolution and sheeny beauty and singing sound.
For the tone of her voice was like a lute, and before his eyes hovered
a picture of waving arms and witching curves, out of which her dreamy
eyes, from which he could not take his own, seemed as it were to speak
to him of love reproachful and old regret. And all at once, with a
violent effort, he roused himself as if from sleep with open eyes. And
he shifted his sword to the other hand, and passed his right across his
brow. And he said, in some confusion: O thou strange and sweet-tongued
woman, certain this much is, that I am filled by thee with emotion that
I do not understand. And yet I know not what to think, or even say.
For even apart from the promptings of a former birth, thy beauty and
thy haunting voice, which I seem as it were to have heard before, are
quite sufficient to rouse emotion even in a stone, much more in a man
of flesh and blood.
Then she shook her head sadly, looking at him with glistening eyes; and
she said, with a smile of ineffable sweetness: Ah! this is as I
thought, and the instinct of thy former birth is clouded over and
effaced, by thy meeting with this other woman in the morning of this
very day. Alas! how small, how very small, the interval of space and
time that divides the paradise of joy from the dungeon of despair! For
had this our reunion been sooner by only a single day, I should have
caught thy heart before it had been occupied by this all too fortunate
other woman, who now holds it like a fortress, garrisoned by a prior
claim. But what is this priority of claim? Can she, who by thine own
confession has known thee only a single day, dare to dispute priority
with the darling of thy former birth?[1] Wilt thou break thy faith
with me, to keep thy faith with her? Aye! and wilt thou, after all,
gain so much by the exchange? Is she beautiful, then, this other
woman? But I am beautiful, too? And she stood up, and looked at Aja
with her head thrown back and proud eyes, as though to challenge his
condemnation of her own consummate beauty. And she said again: Is she,
then, this other beauty, either more faithful or more beautiful than I
am? Speak, and tell me if thou canst, in what I am inferior, or why I
am to be despised, in comparison with her.
And Aja looked at her again, and felt abashed, and half ashamed, he
knew not why. And he murmured to himself: She does not lie: for
beautiful she is indeed, and need not fear comparison with any woman in
the world. And it may be, she is partly right, and if I had met her
yesterday, before my heart was full, she would have had little
difficulty in entering in and capturing it, almost without resistance.
And he stood looking at her silently, uncertain what to say or do, and
half inclined to pity her, and half afraid of her and of himself,
admiring her against his will, and as it were confessing by his very
silence the power of her appeal. For notwithstanding the preoccupation
of his heart, his youth and his sex became as it were allies with her
against his resolution, compelling him to acknowledge the supremacy of
the cunning god, and the spell of feminine attraction incarnate in her
form.
And she stood there before him, for a little, with beauty as it were
heightened by resentful reproach of the slighting of itself, and the
disregard of its tried affection. And then all at once she sank down
upon the ground, as if she were tired, and remained sitting among the
poppies, with her chin resting on her left knee, which she embraced
with her arms, watching him, and as it were, waiting with humility and
patience for a decision in her case. And every now and then, she
closed her eyes, and opened them again, as if to make sure that he was
there.
And Aja looked round in the silence, at the poppies and the lotuses,
and the great owls that seemed to watch him, and back again at her.
And his head began to whirl, and he muttered to himself: Is this a
dream, and what does it all mean? And is she returning to the
condition of an image, disgusted by my coldness and disdain? And what
is to be done? And he looked at her face, deprived, by the closing of
their lids, of the moon of her eyes, and resting like a mask upon its
chin. And he said within himself: Her eyebrows move, as if they were
alive. And he felt as it were unable to look away from them: and at
last, annoyed with himself, he closed his eyes also, as though to
escape their persecution.
[1] Though, in Europe, this insidious appeal might lack force, it is
otherwise in India: whose millions doubt their former birth no more
than they doubt their own existence. It is not long since a woman in
Cutch burned herself with her own dead son, because, she averred, he
had been her husband in her former birth.
VI
And then, he said to himself: This is cowardice, and after all, no
refuge; for I seem to see her still, through the shutters of my lids.
And he opened his eyes once more. And instantly, he leaped from the
ground like a wounded stag, with a cry. For the wood, with all its
lotuses and poppies, was gone. And in its place, he saw before him a
forest with its great green trees all lit by the shining of the sun.
And just in front of him there stood a little hut, buried in the
blossom of the _málati_ creeper. And in its doorway was standing a
young Brahman woman, with a pitcher on her head. And she beckoned to
him with a smile, and he looked, and lo! it was Natabhrúkutí. Then
moved as if against his will, on feet that carried him towards her as
it were of their own accord, he approached her. And as he drew nearer,
there came from that creeper a wave of perfume, resembling that of
jasmine, but sweeter, and so pungent that it entered like fire into his
soul. And then she lifted the pitcher from her head, and set it down
upon the ground, and caught him by the hand, and drew him within the
hut. And there she cast herself into his arms, whispering in his ear,
very low, so as to caress it as she spoke with her lips: My father is
away, and now we are alone, and the day is all before us. Come now,
what shall I do for thy delight? And she ran and shut the door; and
then, taking from a chest rich clothes and splendid jewels, she began
to put them on, saying as she did so: See! am I becoming more fit to be
thy queen? And he watched her, stupefied, like one in a dream, and all
the while she bathed him with intoxicating side glances shot like
arrows from the bow of her arching brows. And at last, she came slowly
towards him, walking on tip-toe, and attitudinising, placing herself
exactly in the posture in which he had seen her first among the poppies
on the wall, with one hand on her hip. And she said, lifting her brow,
with a smile that stole his reason: Now, then, the idol is ready for
the devotee. And at that moment the door opened, and an old Brahman
entered through it. And he said slowly: Abandoned daughter, that hast
forgot thy duty in thy passion for this King's son, become what thou
hast represented, an idol of stone on the wall of a ruined temple far
away; and thou her guilty lover, fall into another birth, and be
separated from thy guilty love.
And then, Aja heard no more. The world whirled around him; the
blackness of night closed over his soul; he uttered a terrible cry, and
fell to the ground in a swoon.
VII
And when he came to himself, he was back again among the poppies in the
_tamála_ wood. And he was lying on the ground, with Natabhrúkutí
bending over him, holding him by the hand, with anxiety in her eyes.
And instantly he started up, and seizing his sword, stood gazing at her
with stupefaction. And he said to himself: Am I dead or dreaming? And
what does it all mean? Is it a delusion of the Creator, or a mirage
and a madness of the desert, out of which I have never yet escaped at
all? Aye! beyond a doubt, I am wandering still in the waste of sand,
raving mad, and dying, and haunted by phantoms that are the premonitors
of approaching death.
So as he stood, balancing in the swing of perplexity, and doubting his
own reason, Natabhrúkutí looked at him fixedly, with concern and
affection and curiosity in her eyes. And she said: Surely thou art
ill. And why then dost thou shrink from me, as though I were a thing
of terror: I, who ask for nothing but to tend thee all my life? For it
was but now, as we spoke together in this wood, I looked up and saw
thee suddenly close thy eyes. And as I watched thee, wondering to see
thee sleeping as it were erect, there burst from thy lips a fearful
cry, and I had but time to catch thee falling, and let thee sink upon
the ground. And I brought thee to thyself, by fanning thee, as well as
I might, with this great leaf.
And she held it up before him, while he continued to gaze at her in
silence. And as he did not speak, she looked at him curiously, and
muttered under her breath, as though speaking to herself, and not
intending him to hear: Can he have suddenly recollected his former
birth, and is this the reason why he is staring at me, as if wishing to
compare me with a picture in his head? And as he still kept silence,
presently she said aloud: Dear, thou art sick: and much in need of
medicines, such as I alone can give thee. Why wilt thou not confide in
me? For I am a cunning leech, and know the virtue of every herb and
every vegetable drug better than Dhanwantari[1] himself. And I have
made myself mistress of every species of the art of healing, and in
particular, I have fed myself on perfumes, and on the essences of
flowers, and all the scented odours of aromatic shrubs, till I have
myself become as it were a very attar, incarnate in a woman's form.
Dost thou doubt it, and think me to be boasting? then try me, and I
will prove to thee my power by experiment, in any way thou wilt. I
will soothe and shampoo[2] thee with a hand softer than a snowflake's
fall and cooler than the icy moon: or, if thou wilt, I will croon to
thee old airs, and put thee to sleep like a tired child, resting thy
head on this bosom which once was thy delight, with melodies that shall
speak to thee of drowzy bees and moaning winds: or I will steal thy
waking senses from thee and lure them into slumber as it were against
thy will by snaring them with fragrances more luscious than that
_párijáta_ blossom, which Wishnu once trailed through the intoxicated
world, to drive it into madness at the moment, and leave it filled with
inconsolable regret when it was gone. See, take this, and smell it,
and thou wilt be better even now. And she held out towards him, in the
lotus of her hand, a tiny flower, in colour like an atom of the
concentrated essence of the sky. And as Aja looked at it, there came
from it a stream of a sharp and biting scent, that rushed into his
soul, coming laden as it were with reminiscence and suggestions of the
past; so that he said to himself: Ha! of what does this remind me, and
where is it that I smelled its almost intolerable sweet before? And
suddenly, the little hut rushed into his mind, and he exclaimed: It is
the very smell of the creeper on its roof. And instantly, a feeling of
amazement that almost overcame him, mingled with terror, crept like a
shudder over his limbs, and his hair stood on end. And he looked at
Natabhrúkutí, who was watching him intently, and said, hoarsely: Who
art thou, thou strange beauty, and what dost thou want of me? And what
is the meaning of these inexplicable mysteries, before which I feel as
if my reason were deserting me, and I were about to faint again?
[1] The physician of the gods, the Hindoo Æsculapius.
[2] The _Samwáhanam_ is one of those old Hindoo medical resources which
we have only recently been wise enough to copy.
VIII
Then she laughed, and said: Fair boy, I am only that bitter-sweet,[1] a
woman: and I want no more than what every woman wants, the man she
loves, and that is thou. Aye! dost thou ask me, who and what I am?
Listen then, and I will tell thee. I am a bee, which not like other
bees roams roving to flower after flower, but confines itself
exclusively to one. I am a breeze, which not like other breezes blows
fickle and inconstant now hither and now thither, but is fixed and ever
steady, coming straight from Malaya laden with the sandal of affection
to lay it at thy feet. I am only the echo of a voice which is thyself,
the shadow of a substance and the reflection of a sun. I am like the
other half of the god that carries the moon upon his head, the twin,
the duplicate and counterpart of a deity who is thou. I am Rati,
rejoicing to find again the body of her husband, and thou art Love
himself returned to life whom I have found. I am an essence of the
ocean, but unlike it, I hold within my heart not many pearls, but only
one, which is thyself. I am a wick, consuming in thy flame, and like
the music of a lute, I am a thing wholly compounded of melodies and
tones, whose mood and being are dependent on the player, who is thou.
Art thou sad? then I am also: art thou joyous? so am I: my soul is
tossed about, and hangs on thy smiling or thy sighing, as a criminal
depends on the sentence of the judge. And like a crystal, I am
colourless[2] without thee, but ready on the instant to assume every
tinge of the colour of thyself. Cast thy eyes upon me, and thou shalt
see as in a glass thy every mood painted on the surface of my face.
Ah! dost thou ask me what I am? Alas! I am a target for the poisoned
arrows which Love shoots at me in the form of thy beauty greater than
his own. And I am like a bare and withered, leafless and frost-bitten
tree, which has suddenly shot up into blossom at the coming of spring
in thy form. But as for thee, why, O why dost thou regard me that live
for only thee as if I were a deadly snake, and thou a startled deer?
In vain, in vain, dost thou endeavour to repel me, for I will not be
repelled. I will melt thy cold ice in thy despite, by the fire of my
affection, and drown thee in its flood, and sweep thee away from the
rocks of thy resistance till thou art lost for ever in its dark and
pearly depths.
And as Aja stood, listening in confusion to her words, which poured
from her like a torrent, suddenly she clapped her hands, and exclaimed,
as he started again at her vehemence: Ha! shall I tell thee, thou
wilful and reluctant boy, of what thou dost remind me, standing as it
were aghast, and obstinately set against me, mute, and yet asking what
I am? Know, that long ago there was a king, who had for wives a
thousand queens. And it happened that one day, he went with his wives
to ramble in the heart of a forest. So after sporting for a while, he
grew tired, in the heat of the day, and lay down and fell asleep. Then
all his queens stole away and left him lying, and went roaming up and
down, very strange creatures in that wild rough wood, looking like
living flowers of every hue and kind, that had somehow or other got
free from their roots, a body of deer-eyed decoys let loose by Love the
Hunter, to lure into his toils every man that should behold them. So
as they rambled here and there, they came suddenly on an old ascetic.
And he was standing still, half buried in the hills of ants, themselves
covered over by his long white hair, immersed in meditation. Then all
those fair women went up and stood around him in a cluster of beautiful
curiosity, wondering at the sight of him, and asking each other in
amazement, what in the world he could possibly be. So as they crowded
round him, that old ascetic emerged from his trance, and as thou art
doing, stood silent and aghast, thinking, as perhaps thou dost thyself,
that Indra must have sent him all the nymphs of heaven in a body, to
lure him from the path of liberation. For, O, thou beautiful
suspicious youth, what is there so terrible about me, as to cause thee
to shrink from my approach? Know, that many would be glad to be wooed
as was that old ascetic, and as thou art now.
[1] _Wishámritam_: lit. poison-nectar.
[2] Also means _without affection_.
IX
And then, Aja strove to awake as it were from a dream. And he shook
himself, as if to shake it off, and he said to himself: I feel that I
am falling as it were a victim to the spell of this passionate and
subtle beauty; and now, unless I stiffen and steel myself against her,
I shall undoubtedly be bewitched and beguiled beyond the possibility of
escape. And he summoned his resolution, and said, with a semblance of
composure: Fair one, thou dost thyself no injustice in comparing
thyself alone to a thousand queens: for thou art a very incarnation of
all the bewildering fascination of thy sex. And yet, potent as they
are, thy charms are wasted, and resemble blunted arrows when directed
against me. For as I have already told thee, I am pledged to another,
and proof against thy spell, as doubtless was thy old ascetic against
that bevy of straying queens.
And then Natabhrúkutí smiled, and she shook at him her finger, as she
answered: Rash boy, beware! Be not too sure of the adamantine quality
of thy resistance, nor even of thy wisdom in resisting me at all. And
beware of provoking the indignation of slighted Love, who may make of
thee a signal example of his vengeance. Take care, lest annoyed with
thy obstinacy in rejecting what he offers thee for nothing, he should
deprive thee even of that other beauty, on whose account alone it is
that I am held by thee so cheap. Poor youth! but that my lips are
tied, I could enlighten thee. Art thou, who art so ready lightly to
disdain me, art thou, I say, so sure, so very sure, that thou art
thyself the only lover of this much married beauty, whom thou sawest,
as thou sayest, for the very first time in thy life to-day? Art thou
so sure, so very sure, that she is not deceiving thee, and that thou
art not merely the last of the many lovers whom she toys with for a
moment, and then carelessly casts away? Art thou so very certain that
thou hast never had a predecessor? And Aja started, in spite of
himself. For the word recalled to him the manner of the old King. And
Natabhrúkutí saw it. And she looked at him as it were with compassion,
and said: Alas, unhappy boy: thou seest that in thy youth and
inexperience such an idea had not occurred to thee. Little art thou
qualified to cope with a woman's guile.
Then said Aja fiercely, in wrath both with himself and her: It is
false, and she is true. But Natabhrúkutí answered very gently: Be not
angry, for I do not question that she loves thee. I do not even doubt
it: for if she did not, she would be a fool. But listen, and learn,
what thou dost not seem to know, that Love is a Master Knave; aye! by
far the greatest master of deceit in the three great worlds. And woman
is his aptest pupil, and every woman living, were she even as simple as
thyself, becomes, as soon as she falls under the influence of Love, a
very incarnation of policy and craft and wiles. I tell thee, foolish
boy, that she that loves in earnest, were she good as gold, pure as
snow, and flawless as a diamond, would plunge, to gain her object, to
the very lowest bottom of the ocean of deceit. And what is her object
but the esteem of her lover? Dost thou think she would balance for an
instant, between her lover and the ruin of the world? between his good
opinion, and a lie? Dost thou think she would forfeit thy esteem, when
to deceive thee would preserve it? I tell thee, in such a dilemma, she
would lie, till the very sun at noon hid his face out of shame.
Know,[1] that long ago there lived at Wáránasi[2] an independent lady,
of beauty so extraordinary, that swarms of lovers used to buzz
continually about her like great black bees about the mango blossom in
the spring. But independent though she was, she was so fastidious,
that none of her innumerable lovers ever touched her heart even for a
moment. And hence she lived like a lamp at midnight surrounded by the
corpses of her victims, who fluttered about her lustre and perished in
its flame. And then at last, one day it came about that a tall young
Rajpoot almost as beautiful as thou art arrived at Wáránasí. And
Kasháyiní[3] (for that was her name) saw him from a window as he came
into the city; and instantly like an empty pitcher suddenly plunged
into the Ganges, she was filled to the very brim by the inrush of
Love's sacred nectar. And she said to herself: The very first thing
that he will hear of in the city is myself. And like everybody else,
he will come immediately to see me: and that very moment, I shall
abandon the body out of shame. For though my beauty might attract him,
yet he will be convinced that many lovers have preceded him, and
therefore, at the bottom of his heart he will despise me. And this
would be worse than any death. And yet without him, my birth will have
been in vain. Therefore, I must devise some expedient. So after a
while, she went out in disguise, and bought for a large sum of money
the body of a woman of her own age and size who had died that very day.
And bringing that body home secretly at night, she dressed it in her
own clothes, and burned it till its identity was obliterated. And then
she set fire to her house, and left it by a back door, and went away,
abandoning all her wealth but the jewels that she wore, for the sake of
her picture in the air.[4] And at that very moment, the Rajpoot came
along, led by some of the townspeople to visit her, as it were set on
fire by the very description of her beauty. And he looked and saw the
flames bursting from her house, as though lit by himself. And they
found the half burned body in the ashes, and immediately all the lovers
of Kasháyiní followed her through the fire of grief to the other world.
But the Rajpoot managed, in spite of disappointment, to remain alive.
And she, in the meantime, having given every one the slip, found a
false ascetic, and bribed him with jewels, giving him instructions
without letting him know who she was. So that ascetic went and struck
up acquaintance with the Rajpoot, pretending to be a discoverer of
treasure.[5] And he performed incantations, and, after a while, he said
to him: Go quickly to Ujjayini, and dig in the north-east corner of the
burning ground outside the city on the very last day of the dark half
of the month of Magha, and thou shalt find a treasure. Take it, for
what is the use of treasure to such a one as me. Thereupon that
Rajpoot, having nothing else to do, went. And Kasháyiní, having first
made sure that the bait had taken, went herself and got there before
him. So when that Rajpoot arrived, he dug exactly as he was told, and
found absolutely nothing. And cursing his destiny, he went out of the
burning ground in the early morning: and as he went along, suddenly he
saw Kasháyiní, who was waiting for him, sitting weeping by the wayside,
under a great _ashwattha_ tree: beautifully dressed, blazing with
jewels, and adorned with saffron and antimony, betel, indigo, and
spangles, flowers, minium, and henna, bangles on ankle and comb in her
hair. And she said to that Rajpoot, who was as utterly astounded by
the sight of her as if she had been water in the desert: O son of a
king, succour one who is utterly without resource. And when he asked
her, what was the matter, she said: I was the only wife of a very rich
merchant, and as we travelled from the South, suddenly we were set upon
by a band of Thags. And after killing every one but me,[6] they all
went to sleep, thinking me secure; but in the middle of the night, I
went a little way, and hid myself in a hollow tree. And in the morning
those villains, after hunting for me in vain, all went away, fearing a
pursuit, and I came out of the tree trembling, and reached this road,
and now I am alone in the world. Then said the Rajpoot to himself: Ha!
so, after all, I have found my treasure, and that excellent ascetic was
a true prophet. And he said: O lady, I am of good family. And now, if
thou wilt have me for a husband, I will supply the loss of thy
merchant, and all the rest of thy relations. And she feigned
reluctance: but after a while, she dried her tears, and consented. But
that Rajpoot almost went out of his mind, so great was his delight.
And one day he told her of Wáránasí, and the burning of Kasháyiní. And
she looked at him with laughing eyes, and said: O my husband, I will
make up to thee for the loss of Kasháyiní: for I am just as beautiful
as she.
[1] In all Oriental stories, statements are proved not by Aristotelian
syllogism, but by "instances": and we are reminded of the opinion of
the artful Retz, that "_one never persuades anybody, but anybody can
insinuate anything_."
[2] Benáres. The lady in question was one of those Hindoo Aspasias of
whom many similar stories are told.
[3] Which we might translate Aromatic: it includes the ideas of _red
colour_ and _pungent perfume_.
[4] Or, as we say, castle in the air.
[5] A regular trade in medieval India.
[6] Everything in this story is exactly in harmony with the manners of
medieval India. The Thags often preserved a woman for her beauty, when
they murdered every one else.
X