And the elephant said: Pippala, as the _wita_ rose, I said to him in
wrath: I only will go to fetch her, nor shall any finger touch her but
my own. And as for thee, remain behind, and await me with thy phial
till I come. Then said the _wita_: As the Maharáj chooses. And he
bowed before me like a slave, and listened in silence while I made my
preparations, thinking no more of him, and utterly forgetful of the
injuries he had suffered at my hands. But if I forgot them, so did not
he. Ha! wonderful is the blindness of kings and lovers who,
intoxicated with passionate desire, place with open eyes weapons in the
hands of infuriated enemies, who only await an opportunity to stab them
to the heart.
And then, O pippala, in the evening, I mounted my horse, and went, with
a chosen band of confidential servants, and a litter, secretly to the
garden. And I rode very slowly, thinking how I should induce her to
come away, unwilling to use force. And I said to myself, with
hesitation: But if she will not come, as only too much I fear, what
then? Must I not have recourse to violence? And after all, was not my
_wita_ right? What matter a little violence, to be utterly forgotten
as soon as she awakes? Moreover, being blind, how can she tell who
seizes her, seeing that she knows me by nothing but my voice? And yet
I could not bring myself to think of taking her away by force, striving
to discover some other way, and saying to myself: Could I but discover
something, to make her come away with me of her own accord.
And then, all at once, I stopped short. And I exclaimed: Ha! I have
it. Surely this will bring her; and now, the business is done.
And I set spurs to my horse, and followed by my train, I quickly
reached the garden, and leaving them to wait below, I climbed the wall
alone, and looked, and lo! there she stood again, listening, and
looking as it were towards me, exactly as she did at first.
And then, strange! the instant that I saw her, I stopped, looking down
at her upon the wall, and such a sadness mingled with the ecstasy of my
devotion as I watched her, that the tears rose up into my eyes. And I
said to myself: Let me look at her well, for just a little while, for
this is the very last time I shall see her from the wall. Ha! pippala,
little did I dream that I was looking at her, never again to see her
standing, either from the wall or any other place whatever in the
world. And her dress, as she had turned round towards the wall,
startled by the sound of my approach, was twined as if with affection,
like a creeper, closely round her ankles, and had wrapped itself around
her feet, as if to hinder them from moving and root her in the ground,
resembling a pedestal, out of which, like a statue of herself, her
beautiful undulating body rose up into the air, like the feminine
incarnation of a full-blown and heavy flower, only waiting for a breeze
to sway gently on its slender stalk. And once more I trembled as I
gazed at the dead still colour of her tranquil unintimidated eyes, that
seemed as it were to say to me, Coward, couldst thou have mustered
courage to lay rude hands on such a lovely lotus as myself, growing in
a pool which is not thine?
And suddenly, I flung myself into the garden, and went hastily towards
her. And I exclaimed: Watsatarí, thy husband is returned, for I have
found him, and now I have him in my palace, and his life is in my
hands, and thine. And now I have come myself, with an escort, to bring
thee to him; so that in thy presence I may bargain with him for thee,
and buy thee, at any price that he shall name. Didst thou not say, I
was a robber, endeavouring to steal the thing I could not buy? And
now, then, we shall see whether he will sell thee; and I promise thee,
I will not buy thee cheap; for I am ready to give him, in return for
thee, his life.
And as she listened, she started; and when I ended, she was silent; and
as I watched her, she trembled a very little, and grew pale. And
presently she said slowly: Thou hast placed me, indeed, in an
extremity; and very sore indeed is my perplexity, to know what I should
do. And what if I refuse to come? And I said in a low voice: It will
go hard with thy husband, in thy absence. Ah! pippala, I pitied her,
even as I spoke. And I steeled myself against compassion, saying to
myself: No matter if she suffers a little now; for very soon, I will
make it up to her, a thousandfold and more.
And after a while, she sighed and said again: How can I believe thee,
who hast lied to me so often, and whose purpose only too well I
understand? Yet how can I resist one who can so easily effect by
violence the end at which he aims, if I refuse? And yet, I fear for my
husband, and what thou sayest may, after all, be true. Will thou swear
to me, thou wilt take me to my husband? And I said to myself: She has
caught herself in the trap; and who will be her husband but myself?
And I exclaimed: Watsatarí, if I am lying to thee, may I fall into a
lower birth! Ha! pippala, as I think, the deity was listening, and
bound me in this very body of an elephant, remembering my words, in
obedience to my own curse.
And Trishodadhi, as he listened, murmured to himself: Ah! liar of a
king, so after all, thou couldst prevail on her virtue only by making
use of me against myself, and turning as it were her very heart into a
snare. And all oblivious of his muttering, he listened eagerly for the
termination of the tale.