IV

And when he entered the arbour once more, and saw her again, this time,

at the very sight of her, his heart trembled with delight, saying to

itself, as if with relief: Ah! she is still there. And she was

standing almost exactly in the attitude in which she stood before, save

only, that she was not quite so close to the brink of the abyss. But

she made a step towards it, as he entered, turning, and taking, as it

were, her stand beside it, as much as to say: Here is my friend, and my

defender, and my refuge. And all the surprise had vanished from her

face: and instead of it, the eyes, with which she looked at him in

doubt, were full of dark suspicion and distrust, mixed with

apprehension. And they watched him, with close attention, as if she

expected that, like a panther, he might make a sudden spring upon her,

before she could escape. And she seemed to say to him, with silent

alarm and indignation: What! has he actually returned? Ha! it is as I

feared. And now, my only refuge lies at the very bottom of the gorge.

And then, as if afraid lest she should put her threat into execution,

out of terror, before he could prevent her, the King said hastily: O

mountain maiden, do not be afraid, to see me return: for I have done

so, only because I was ashamed, first, for having broken in upon thy

privacy, and then again, still more, for having left thee so abruptly,

without explaining or excusing my intrusion. And if I am guilty, I am

not without excuse: nor myself the one to blame: since I was brought

here by the minister, Yogeshwara, who told me to expect in this arbour

the arrival of the Guru of the King. And being an utter stranger, I

know not, if I go away alone, whither to turn my steps. But in any

case, I do adjure thee, to dismiss thy apprehension: since thou hast

absolutely no occasion at all for alarm.

And while he spoke, she stood, listening, with suspicion, to his

apology: and when he finished, all at once, she turned upon him like a

fury, and exclaimed, stamping her little foot upon the ground: And how

dared Yogeshwara bring thee to my arbour? Did I not refuse, when he

begged me to lend it him, and yet, has he had the audacity to borrow

it, against my will? and use it, as an inn, for passing strangers? And

as the King stood, aghast, amazed at the sudden storm of indignation

that fell upon him, like a traveller overtaken by a thundercloud, yet

all the while wondering at the beauty of the lightning threatening to

strike him, all at once, recollection suddenly brought into his mind,

what Yogeshwara had said to him, just before he went away. And he

murmured to himself: Apparently the owner of this arbour,

notwithstanding Yogeshwara's diligence, is before me after all, and

certainly this arbour is, as it seems, the very last place to which I

should have come. And as he thought, all at once she said to him, with

irritation: And who then art thou, whom he has placed here, as if on

purpose to disturb me, and terrify me and annoy me?

And as the King looked at her, he said to himself: Now I shall pay for

Yogeshwara's impertinence. And I feel like a culprit before her, and

yet, somehow or other, her anger is delightful, like that of a child

whose toy is broken, about to fly into a passion with anyone it sees.

And he said: O maiden, be not angry with the innocent. For I am only

Chand the son of Chand, arrived here this very morning on a visit of

importance to thy King.

And as he spoke, she started with surprise: and then all at once, as he

watched her, all her anger suddenly disappeared. And a smile, like

that of one who recollects, crept over her face: and she dropped all

her flowers upon the floor, and began to clap her hands. And she

exclaimed: Ha! now I remember, and who else could it be? And I wonder

that I did not think of it before: since they say, King Chand is a

giant, and thy size is, as it were, thy guarantee, and the proof of thy

words. And now, then, I will solve thy problem, in the matter of this

arbour, by instantly going away myself, and leaving it to thee: to

await by thyself the arrival of the Guru: for as to Yogeshwara, he

shall learn another time, the danger of employing my arbour as an inn.

And instantly, she drew her veil around her face,[11] and came very

quickly towards him, to pass by him, and escape by the door. But Chand

put out his hand, as though to stop her, exclaiming: O daughter of King

Mitra, for I cannot doubt that thou art she, I should be altogether

inexcusable, if I came here only to deprive thee, and as it were, expel

thee from thy arbour by my coming. See now, I will myself depart the

very moment that the Guru arrives: and in the meantime, wilt thou not

dismiss thy alarm and indignation, and suffer me to remain with thee,

till he appears?

And as he spoke, Yogeshwara in his ambush exclaimed in delight: Ha! I

did her wrong, and she is very clever. For now she has brought him to

the point of begging for permission to remain, never dreaming, that

that is exactly what she wishes him to do herself. And I thought that

she had driven him away: but she, like a skilful angler, knew, that the

hook was already in the jaws of her royal fish.

V

So as the King spoke, with imploring eyes, and entreaty in his voice,

she turned suddenly towards him, and began as it were to examine him,

with curiosity and amazement. And after a while she said, as if with

incredulity: Have my own ears turned traitors, and is it now, that they

are playing me false, or was it then, when, as I thought, I heard thee

name thyself King Chand the son of Chand? And Chand said: Nay, but I

am actually he. And she laughed scornfully, and exclaimed: Art thou

absolutely sure, that thou hast not mistaken thy identity? Can it be,

that thou art really Chand? For I have heard, that of all companions

in the world, women are those from whom he most desires to escape.

And she looked at him awhile, with eyes, of which he could not tell,

whether that which filled their blue was disbelief or derision or

amusement; and all at once, she turned away, and went back to her

basket, and began once more to busy herself about its flowers, kneeling

down beside it. And after a while, she turned her head towards him,

and said, shooting at him a glance out of the very corner of her eye:

King Chand has my permission, if he chooses, to remain, till the Guru

arrives: and in the meanwhile, I crave his permission to return to my

work among my flowers, in which his uninvited entrance interrupted me:

since such a thing as I am is not fit for such a hero as is he: nor can

it be supposed that conversation such as mine could possibly amuse him.

And yet, would the King deign to be advised by such a thing as me, he

would go instantly away, without losing any time: for there is danger

in remaining.

And Chand said: Where, and of what nature is the danger? And as he

spoke, she turned round, and bent her great blue eyes upon him, with

her two lips closed, as though determined not to smile, almost into a

ball, so that they exactly resembled a ripe _bimba_ fruit. And she

seemed as it were to say to him: Dost thou not recognise, who is the

danger? And after a while, she turned away, saying: The danger is,

that King Chand may utterly wreck his reputation for misogyny, by

betraying an inclination for the society of women. For I think that

his friends in the plains would be very much astonished; if they knew

that he had actually gone so far as to return of his own accord to an

arbour, out of which the unsuspected and abominable presence of one of

that insignificant and useless sex had originally driven him.

And then she sat in silence, stealing at him every now and then glances

from eyes he could not see, that resembled soft flashes of lightning in

the form of blue and silent laughter, from under the long lashes which

as he watched her he could see standing out from her round soft cheek

like the roof of a house. And though she never laughed, he knew that

she was laughing at him, by that very cheek, from which he could not

take his eyes, resembling as it did a very incarnation of round, soft,

delicious, unpunishable impertinence, that attracted him with so

irresistible a longing for its owner that he could hardly breathe. And

yet he was filled with shame, and confusion, and rage against himself,

and also against her; and all the while he felt, that his anger against

her was as it were impotent and helpless, for his soul began as it were

to turn traitor to him, going over in spite of himself to her side.

And so he stood, gazing at her in wrath that was mixed with a smile of

delight, utterly unable either to say or to do anything at all. And he

strove to be offended with her, in vain, in spite of the shame and

exasperation that she was pouring into his heart. And so as he stood,

like a picture of wounded pride and helpless irresolution, all at once,

she looked round, and as it were caught him unawares, standing at her

mercy, abashed and ashamed, the very target of her mocking eyes. And

utterly unable to endure it any longer, he suddenly turned and ran out

of the arbour, as if he were escaping from a foe.