And the elephant said: Pippala, she drank, and instantly fell back upon
the couch, and lay, paler than the digit of the moon by day, and still
as a picture painted on a wall. And I said in exultation and triumph
to myself: Now, leave her and let it work, and in the meantime, I will
watch her till she wakes. And now, all her suffering and trial is
over; and little indeed shall she have cause to complain of changing
that old husband for myself. And I said to my _wita_: Now, begone, and
leave me alone with her; and to-morrow I will see to thy reward. And
as he went, that _wita_ whispered in my ear: Maharáj, the business is
done. Now then, very soon, she will have utterly forgotten all, and
thy turn to play the husband has arrived. And he gazed at me for a
moment with a smile of evil omen, and I was troubled as I saw it, for
his eye resembled that of a vulture sitting on a cemetery wall. Alas!
even then, I did not understand. And then he went away, vanishing like
Trishodadhi in the ocean of the world. Ha! wise he was to disappear,
for well he knew that on the morrow, the very sight of me would have
been the signal of his death.
And when he had gone, I remained alone in that chamber with Watsatarí,
to watch till she awoke. And I wandered up and down, as it were on
tiptoe, with agitated steps, while the night crept slowly on, hour
after hour, and every now and then I stopped to look at her as she lay
upon the couch; and like a wild beast in a cage, I went to and fro,
unable to remain at rest, tossed here and there by the tumult in my
soul, where anticipation and impatience, and desire and triumph and
delight, and doubt and apprehension jostled each other like waves of
the sea, roused into disquiet by the wind of passion, and yet pervaded
by unutterable longing to grow calm and be still at the sight of that
lovely digit of the moon rising as it were to quell it in an instant
and allay its storm, by awaking from her sleep. And in the meantime,
the light of the real moon grew gradually stronger, and stole into the
room, as if desirous to become reunited with that sleeping beauty that
resembled a portion of himself.[18] And seeing it, I said within
myself: Surely the moon is right, and now he shall have his wish; for I
am not jealous of sharing her with such a lover. And I extinguished
all the lamps, and threw open all the trellises, and I sat down on a
couch a little way off, and watched her beauty and adored it as she
lay, bathed in the soft and silver light of that lord of heavenly
nectar. And the shadows of the strings of the moonstones hanging in
rows along the windows fell over her in stripes that resembled the bars
of a cage, as if wishing to keep her prisoner against her will. And so
as I watched her in ecstasy, the sound of the camphor ooze dropping
slowly every now and then on the marble floor below murmured in my ear
like music and a melody of slumber, and played on the fatigue and
agitation of my soul, and at last, all unawares, I fell asleep.
And all at once, I awoke, and started up, and looked, and lo! the
moonlight had all but gone. And in the darkness, lit as it were by the
shadow of his last remaining ray, which fell upon her, I saw her lying,
absolutely still, exactly as she lay before. And suddenly, as I saw
her, I began to tremble like a leaf. And in the silence, I heard my
own heart beating, as if it wished to wake her, like the noise of a
drum. And all my hair suddenly stood on end, and the sweat broke out
upon my brow. And I said to myself: Ha! she is very still, lying
exactly as she lay before, never having moved.
And I stood gazing at her in a stupor, and listening to my own heart,
that beat in my ears like the surge of the sea. And then, very slowly,
I went silently on tiptoe up to that couch on which she lay. And I
bent over her, listening, and all at once I touched her with my hand.
Ha! pippala, she was colder than the marble floor. And she smiled in
that dying moonlight, saying as it were: Maharáj, I was right after
all; and as I told thee, thou hast stolen my body, only to find it
deserted by the soul.
[1] The japamála, "string of muttering," is exactly the rosary of the
West.
[2] The sacred fig, _ficus religiosa_. The word should be pronounced
almost exactly like people--dissyllabically.
[3] This, though strange to Western modern ears, would be quite
familiar to an old Hindoo. All these "curses" had their "termination"
definitely assigned to them (_áwadhi_) exactly as in the text,
deliverance being made conditional on the telling of the tale.
[4] The name, _par excellence_, of a model Hindoo wife is _patidewatá,
patiwratá_: i.e. _she to whom her husband is a god_. This epithet is
the Victoria Cross, the blue ribbon of the Indian matron.
[5] _i.e._ the _roomal_ or _paggri_, on the head: one of the two
essential garments of the Hindoo; used by the Thags as a strangling
noose.
[6] This term, properly applied to a king, is by politeness or irony
also used much as we use Sir.
[7] _i.e._ the rod of punishment, one of the essential attributes of a
king.
[8] The function of the _wita_ in old Hindoo courts was analogous to
that of Chiffinch in _Peveril of the Peak_.
[9] Red is the colour of affection, and blue that of its highest power,
devotion that is immortal and indelible.
[10] A Hindoo woman will never mention her husband's name. They allude
to him in terms that correspond to the Latin _iste, ille_.
[11] A kind of fish.
[12] The aphorisms of this king, who according to tradition combined
the usually incompatible professions of king, poet, grammarian, gay
Lothario, and sage, are household words in India.
[13] The poison that Shiwa drank to save the world, which was blue. In
this passage, there is an elaborate play on _beauty_ and _salt_, which
are denoted by the same word.
[14] The position of the Hindoo widow was very different from that of
other widows: her misfortune was counted to her as a crime and her life
a long-drawn-out martyrdom, from which perhaps the fire would be
release.
[15] The reader should remember that here, as often, memory and love
are identical.
[16] The science of medicine.
[17] A common epithet of the moon.
[18] The moon proper is a male; but all his digits are feminine.