So then he waited, with a soul that almost leaped from his body with
impatience, for the wax of the moon, which seemed to stand still, as if
on purpose to destroy him. And he sent, in the meanwhile, a message to
Gangadhara, saying: Everything is easy to those favoured by the Deity.
And I have found what I was seeking, even without thy assistance, as I
will prove to thee, by ocular demonstration, on the day of the full
moon.
And as he listened, Gangadhara was so utterly confounded, that he could
hardly understand. And finally, he said to himself: Beyond a doubt, this
kingdom will presently be ruined, for the King is out of his mind. And
now I begin to perceive, that it will become my duty to remove him from
the throne, in favour of his maternal uncle, who is waiting and watching
to devour him like a crab,[24] if only he can find his opportunity. Or
is it only, after all, a device, to marry some girl that he has set his
heart on, without consulting either policy or me? If so, let him beware!
for he shall do penance for despising me, in full. But let me wait, in
any case, for the moon to grow round. Yet what can the Lord of Herbs[25]
have to do with this matter, unless he possesses a medicine suited to
the King's disease?
[Footnote 24: The crabs of Ceylon (presumably the same as those of
southern India, whose shores I do not know) are the most extraordinary
things I ever saw. They run like the wind, and jump, over immense spaces
and chasms, from rock to rock, better than any horse.]
[Footnote 25: _i.e._ the moon.]
So then, at last, when the moon had gathered up all his digits but the
last, as soon as he rose, Arunodaya went out of his palace to wander on
the shore, with no companion but his sword. For he said to himself: What
if it were all but a dream or a delusion? Then, were it to be known, I
should become a very target for the ridicule of all the people in the
city. So it is better to keep the secret to myself. And he roamed about
the sand of the shore, near the temple, for hours, ready to curse both
sun and moon together, the one for his delay in going down, and the
other for taking such a time to climb into the sky. And finally, unable
to wait any longer, he went directly, long ere midnight, to the temple,
and stood for a while, exactly where yonder sleeper lies now, as if
making up his mind. And at last, he came up between us, and peeped in,
with a beating heart, and saw absolutely nothing inside, but emptiness
and dark. And presently he said: Has that Lord of Obstacles deceived me,
or is it too soon, for his present to arrive? And how will she come? Yet
if that sea-bird was either a liar or a dream, it will be time enough to
go away, before dawn returns, at any hour of the night. And he sat down
at my feet, leaning his back against me, and looking out to sea, over
which the moon was slowly climbing, exactly as it does to-night. And
worn out with agitation, and fatigue, and suspense, he went off to sleep
unawares. And he looked as he lay in the moonlight like the God of Love
resting, after he had conquered the three worlds.
X
So then, when at last he woke, he lay for a little while puzzled, and
trying to remember where he was, and why. And so as he lay, he heard
suddenly behind him in the temple the faint clash of anklets, saying to
him as it were: Thou art sleeping, but I am waiting. And like a flash of
lightning, his memory returned; and he started to his feet, and turned,
and looked in at the temple door.
And lo! when he did so, there, in a ray of moonlight that fell in
through the ruined wall, and clung to her affectionately, as though to
say: Here hiding in this dark cave have I suddenly fallen on my
sixteenth digit that was wanting to complete my orb: there stood a young
woman, looking like the feminine incarnation of the realisation of his
longing to find the wife of his former birth. And she was leaning
against the wall, half in and half out of the shadow, with her head
thrown back against it, so that her left breast stood out in the light
of the moon as if to mock it, leaving the other dark: and the curve of
her hip issued from the shadow and again was lost in it, like that of a
wave that rises from the sea. And he saw her eyes shining, as they gazed
at him in curiosity, like stars in a moonless night reflected in a pool,
whose light serves only to make the darkness it is lost in more visible
than before. And her attitude gave her the appearance of a statue fixed
upon the wall, that had suddenly emerged from it, and taken life, half
doubtful, by reason of timidity, whether she should not re-enter it
again. And she was dressed, like Janaki, when the Ten-headed Demon
seized her, in a robe of yellow silk, with golden bangles, and golden
anklets, and a necklace of great pearls around her neck, like a row of
little moons formed out of drops of the lunar ooze: and in her hair,
which shone like the back of a great black bee, was a single champak
blossom, that resembled an earthly star shedding fragrance as well as
light. And her red lips looked as if the smile that was on the very
point of opening like a flower had been checked in the very act, by the
hesitation springing from a very little fear.
And Arunodaya gazed at her in silence, exactly as she did at him. And
after a while, he murmured aloud, as if speaking to himself: Can this be
in very truth the wife of my former birth, or only a thing seen in a
dream?
And when he spoke, she started, and moved a very little from the wall,
with one hand resting still against it, as if it was her refuge. And she
said, in a low voice: I thought the dreamer was myself. Art thou some
deity come to tempt me, and where am I, if it is reality and not a
dream? And Arunodaya said: It is not I that am the deity, but thou. For
who ever saw anything like thee in the world? And yet if thou art Shri,
where is Wishnu? or if Rati, where is Love?
And she looked at him steadily, and after a little while, she said with
a sigh: Alas! thou hast spoken truly: where is Love?[26] What! can it
be? and dost thou not remember me? And Arunodaya said: How could I
remember what I never saw before in my life? Then she said: What does
this life matter? Hast thou then so utterly forgotten everything of the
life before?
[Footnote 26: _Love_, in Sanskrit, means also _recollection_.]
And as he gazed at her in perplexity, all at once she started from the
wall and ran towards him, clapping her hands, and laughing, with her
bangles and anklets and her girdle clashing, as if keeping time with her
movements, and exclaiming: The forfeit! the forfeit! I have won! I have
won! And he said, smiling as if against his will: What forfeit? What
dost thou mean? And for answer, she threw herself into his arms, and
began to kiss him, laughing in delight, and crying out: I said it, I
said it. I have remembered, and thou hast forgotten. Did I not tell
thee, thus it would be, when we met again in another birth? Come, cudgel
thy dull memory, and listen while I help thee; and after, I will exact
from thee the forfeit that we fixed. And Arunodaya said again: What
forfeit? For I remember absolutely nothing of it all. And she said: Out
on thee! O thou of no memory at all. What! is thy little pandit all
forgotten? What! hast thou forgotten, what as I think could never be
forgotten, how all the pandits shouted together at our marriage? And he
exclaimed: Ha! pandits! Then she said: Ah! Dost thou actually begin to
recollect? then I have hopes of thee. But as to the forfeit, wilt thou
actually persist in obstinately forgetting all about it? Must I actually
tell thee, and art thou not utterly ashamed? Art thou not ashamed, after
all thy protestations, to look me in the face?
And as she gazed, with eyes filled to the brim with passionate affection
that was not feigned, straight into his own, holding him with soft arms
that resembled creepers, and as it were caressing him with the touch of
her bosom and the perfume of the honey of her lips and her hair, taking
him as it were prisoner by the sudden assault of irresistible flattery
in the form of her own surrender, Arunodaya's head began to spin, lost
as he was in a whirlpool of bewilderment springing half from her
beauty's intoxicating spell, and half from ineffectual striving to
recall at her bidding what she said, so that in his perplexity he could
not even comprehend whether he recollected anything or not. And he
murmured to himself: Surely she must be the wife I was looking for, for
who else can she be? and certainly she is beautiful enough to be
anybody's wife. And as he hesitated, balanced in the swing of
indecision, she began to draw her forefinger over his eyebrows, each in
turn, saying in a whisper: _Aryaputra_,[27] this was the forfeit. Give
me thy hand, and shut, for a while, thy eyes. And as he did so, saying
to himself: Now I wonder what she will give me: all at once he uttered a
cry of pain. For she had taken his little finger with her teeth, and
bitten it hard. And as his eyes flew open, as it were of their own
accord, she said, with a frown and a smile mixed together: Why didst
thou forget me? Was it not agreed between us that the forgotten should
exact from the forgetter whatever penalty he chose?
[Footnote 27: A name given only by a wife to her husband, implying the
claim.]
And at the reproach in her eyes, the heart of Arunodaya began as it were
to smite him, saying: Surely thou art but churlish in returning her
affection, and refusing to remember her: for she is well worthy to be
remembered. And being totally unacquainted with woman, and her
sweetness, and her snare, his youth and his sex began as it were to side
with her against his reason and his doubt, saying to his soul: What more
canst thou possibly require in a wife, than such an incarnation of charm
and affection and intoxicating caress. And all at once, he took her and
drew her towards him with one arm about her slender waist, that a hand
might have grasped, and the other round her head, and he began to kiss
her as fast as he could, with kisses that she returned him till her
breath failed. And after a while, he said, in a low voice: Who art thou
in this birth, if as thou sayest, I was thy husband in the last? And
hast thou fallen from the sky? For thou art altogether too different
from the others, to be but a woman.[28] And what is thy name?
[Footnote 28: The English reader may be puzzled by the difficulty: how a
Widyadhari could ever be a woman. But it is very simple on Hindoo
principles. Widyadharas are constantly falling into human bodies by
reason of curses, or guilt contracted.]
Then said Makarandika: Thou art not absolutely wrong: for I am not a
woman of the earth, but a Widyadhari, by name Makarandika. And by and
bye I will tell thee all about myself, and my coming here, to rediscover
and regain thee; and learn of thee thine. But in the meanwhile, come
outside this gloomy temple into the moonlight, where I can see thee. And
she drew him out of the temple, and as they stood, looking at one
another, she said: Dost thou know, that I am paying a great price for
thee? See, a little while ago, I came hither flying through the air. And
as I came, I said to myself, with regret: I am flying for the very last
time: for to-morrow I shall forfeit all my magic sciences, by marrying a
mortal. And as my resolution wavered, at that very moment, I arrived,
and saw thee, lying asleep in the moonlight, at the feet of Maheshwara
yonder on the wall. And instantly, I exclaimed: Away with these
miserable sciences, for what are they worth in comparison with him, or,
worse, without him?
And Arunodaya exclaimed: What! wilt thou sacrifice all thy condition as
a Widyadhari for such a one as me? Out, out, upon such a price, for such
a worthless ware!
And for answer, she took his hand, and put it on her heart, looking at
him with eyes that shone not only with moonlight, but with a tear. And
Arunodaya said, with emphasis: Thou must be my wife: for how could I
think, having seen thee, of any other woman in the world, even in a
dream.
And as he spoke, he started, almost uttering a cry. For suddenly she
clenched the hand she held with a grip that almost hurt it, and he felt
the heart it lay on suddenly leap, as it were, and stop. And as he
looked at her in wonder, he saw her turning paler and paler, till she
seemed in that white moonlight about to become a stone image, in
imitation of ours, just behind her, on the wall.
And he said in alarm: Art thou ill, or suffering, or what? Or dost thou
regret thy sciences? And then, all at once, she laughed, and said: My
sciences? Nay, nay, it is not that, of which I am afraid. Come, it is
nothing, and what am I but a fool? Let us go now to thy palace: and see,
I will exert my power, for the very last time, in thy favour, and carry
thee through the air. And she sat down on the step, saying: Come, thou
art rather a large and a clumsy baby: yet sit thou on my lap. And she
took him in her arms, and rose with him into the air, and they floated
over the sea towards the palace, resembling for the moment myself and
thee roaming in the sky.
And as they went, Arunodaya said within himself: Surely I am only
dreaming; and of what is this Widyadhari made, that has claimed me for
her own? Is it fire or something else?
But Makarandika, as they floated, said to herself in ecstasy and
exultation: Now, then, I have got him, and it will be my own fault, if I
cannot so utterly bewitch him, as to cause him to forget all about his
former wife, and take me, as why should I not have been? for her. And
what do I care for her? For she may be the wife of that birth, but I am
the wife of this. And why should the wife of the present count for less
than the wife of the past?