The Kadambari of Bana Part 6

(371) '"At the end of a moment Mahacveta said to Kadambari as she was intent on giving betel: 'Dear Kadambari, the moment has approached for us to show honour to our newly arrived guest, Candrapida. Therefore give him some.' But averting her bent face, Kadambari replied slowly and indistinctly, 'Dear friend, I am ashamed to do so, for I do not know him. Do thou take it, for thou canst without the forwardness there would be in me, and give it him'; and it was only after many persuasions, that with difficulty, and like a village maiden, she resolved to give it. Her eyes were never drawn from Mahacveta's face, her limbs trembled, her glance wavered, she sighed deeply, she was stunned by Love with his shaft, and she seemed a prey to terror as she stretched forth her hand, holding the betel as if trying to cling to something under the idea she was falling. The hand Candrapida stretched out, by nature pink, as if red lead had fallen upon it from the flapping of his triumphal elephant, was darkened by the scars of the bowstring, and seemed to have drops of collyrium clinging to it from touching the eyes of his enemies' Lakshmi, weeping as he drew her by the hair; (372) its fingers by the forth-flas.h.i.+ng rays of his nails seemed to run up hastily, to grow long and to laugh, and the hand seemed to raise five other fingers in the five senses that, in desire to touch her, had just made their entry full of love. Then contending feelings [299] took possession of Kadambari as if they had gathered together in curiosity to see the grace at that moment so easy of access. Her hand, as she did not look whither it was going, was stretched vainly forth, and the rays of its nails seemed to hasten forward to seek Candrapida's hand; and with the murmur of the line of bracelets stirred by her trembling, it seemed to say, as drops of moisture arose on it, 'Let this slave offered by Love be accepted,'

[300] as if she were offering herself, and 'Henceforth it is in thy hand,' as if she were making it into a living being, and so she gave the betel. And in drawing back her hand she did not notice the fall of her bracelet, which had slipped down her arm in eagerness to touch him, like her heart pierced by Love's shaft; and taking another piece of betel, she gave it to Mahacveta.

(373) '"Then there came up with hasty steps a maina, a very flower, in that her feet were yellow as lotus filaments, her beak was like a campak bud, and her wings blue as a lotus petal. Close behind her came a parrot, slow in gait, emerald-winged, with a beak like coral and neck bearing a curved, three-rayed rainbow. Angrily the maina began: 'Princess Kadambari, why dost thou not restrain this wretched, ill-mannered, conceited bird from following me? If thou overlookest my being oppressed by him, I will certainly destroy myself. I swear it truly by thy lotus feet.' At these words Kadambari smiled; but Mahacveta, not knowing the story, asked Madalekha what she was saying, and she told the following tale: 'This maina, Kalindi, is a friend of Princess Kadambari, and was given by her solemnly in marriage to Parihasa, the parrot. And to-day, ever since she saw him reciting something at early dawn to Kadambari's betel-bearer, Tamalika, alone, she has been filled with jealousy, and in frowardness of wrath will not go near him, or speak, or touch, or look at him; and though we have all tried to soothe her, she will not be soothed.' (374) Thereat a smile spread over Candrapida's face, and he softly laughed and said, 'This is the course of gossip. It is heard in the court; by a succession of ears the attendants pa.s.s it on; the outside world repeats it; the tale wanders to the ends of the earth, and we too hear how this parrot Parihasa has fallen in love with Princess Kadambari's betel-bearer, and, enslaved by love, knows nothing of the past. Away with this ill-behaved, shameless deserter of his wife, and away with her too! But is it fitting in the Princess not to restrain her giddy slave? Perhaps her cruelty, however, was shown at the first in giving poor Kalindi to this ill-conducted bird. What can she do now? For women feel that a shared wifehood is the bitterest matter for indignation, the chief cause for estrangement, and the greatest possible insult. Kalindi has been only too patient that in the aversion caused by this weight of grief she has not slain herself by poison, fire, or famine. For nothing makes a woman more despised; and if, after such a crime, she is willing to be reconciled and to live with him again, shame on her! enough of her! let her be banished and cast out in scorn! Who will speak to her or look at her again, and who will mention her name?' A laugh arose among Kadambari's women as they heard [301] his mirthful words. (375) But Parihasa, hearing his jesting speech, said: 'Cunning Prince, she is clever. Unsteady as she is, she is not to be taken in by thee or anyone else. She knows all these crooked speeches. She understands a jest. Her mind is sharpened by contact with a court. Cease thy jests. She is no subject for the talk of bold men. For, soft of speech as she is, she knows well the time, cause, measure, object, and topic for wrath and for peace.' Meanwhile, a herald came up and said to Mahacveta: 'Princess, King Citraratha and Queen Madira send to see thee,' and she, eager to go, asked Kadambari, 'Friend, where should Candrapida stay?' The latter, inwardly smiling at the thought that he had already found a place in the heart of thousands of women, said aloud, 'Dear Mahacveta, why speak thus? Since I beheld him I have not been mistress of myself, far less than of my palace and my servants. Let him stay wherever it pleases him and my dear friend's heart.' Thereon Mahacveta replied, "Let him stay in the jewelled house on the playing hill of the royal garden near thy palace,' and went to see the king.

(376) '"Candrapida went away at her departure, followed by maidens, sent for his amus.e.m.e.nt by the portress at Kadambari's bidding, players on lute and pipe, singers, skilful dice and draught players, practised painters and reciters of graceful verses; he was led by his old acquaintance Keyuraka to the jewelled hall on the playing hill.

'"When he was gone the Gandharva princess dismissed her girl-friends and attendants, and followed only by a few, went into the palace. There she fell on her couch, while her maidens stayed some way off, full of respect, and tried to comfort her. At length she came to herself, and remaining alone, she was filled with shame. For Modesty censured her: 'Light one, what hast thou begun?' Self-respect reproached her: 'Gandharva Princess, how is this fitting for thee?' Simplicity mocked her: 'Where has thy childhood gone before its day was over?' Youth warned her: 'Wilful girl, do not carry out alone any wild plan of thine own!' Dignity rebuked her: 'Timid child, this is not the course of a high-born maiden.' Conduct blamed her: 'Reckless girl, avoid this unseemly behaviour!' High Birth admonished her: 'Foolish one, love hath led thee into lightness.' Steadfastness cried shame on her: 'Whence comes thine unsteadiness of nature?' n.o.bility rebuked her: 'Self-willed, my authority is set at nought by thee.'

(377) '"And she thought within herself, 'What shameful conduct is this of mine, in that I cast away all fear, and show my unsteadiness and am blinded by folly. In my audacity I never thought he was a stranger; in my shamelessness I did not consider that he would think me light of nature; I never examined his character; I never thought in my folly if I were worthy of his regard; I had no dread of an unexpected rebuff; I had no fear of my parents, no anxiety about gossip. Nay, more, I did not in my unkindness [302] remember that Mahacveta was in sorrow; in my stupidity I did not notice that my friends stood by and beheld me; in my utter dullness I did not see that my servants behind were observing me. Even grave minds would mark such utter forgetfulness of seemliness; how much more Mahacveta, who knows the course of love; and my friends skilled in all its ways, and my attendants who know all its symptoms, and whose wits are sharpened by life at court. The slaves of a zenana have keen eyes in such matters. My evil fate has undone me! Better were it for me now to die than live a shameful life. What will my father and mother and the Gandharvas say when they hear this tale? What can I do? What remedy is there? How can I cover this error? To whom can I tell this folly of my undisciplined senses, (378) and where shall I go, consumed by Kama, the five-arrowed G.o.d? I had made a promise in Mahacveta's sorrow, I had announced it before my friends, I had sent a message of it by the hands of Keyuraka, and how it has now come about that that beguiling Candrapida has been brought hither, I know not, ill-fated that I am; whether it be by cruel fate or proud love, or nemesis of my former deeds, or accursed death, or anything else. But some power unseen, unknown, unheard of, unthought of and unimagined before, has come to delude me. At the mere sight of him I am a captive in bonds; I am cast into a cage and handed over by my senses; I am enslaved and led to him by Love; I am sent away by affection; I am sold at a price by my feelings; I am made as a household chattel by my heart. I will have nothing to do with this worthless one!' Thus for a moment she resolved. But having made this resolve, she was mocked by Candrapida's image stirred by the trembling of her heart, 'If thou, in thy false reserve, will have nought to do with me, I will go.' She was asked by her life, which clung to her in a farewell embrace before starting at the moment of her determination to give up Candrapida; (379) she was addressed by a tear that rose at that moment, 'Let him be seen once more with clearer eyes, whether he be worthy of rejection or no'; she was chidden by Love, saying, 'I will take away thy pride together with thy life;'

and so her heart was again turned to Candrapida. Overwhelmed, when the force of her meditation had collapsed, by the access of love, she rose, under its sway, and stood looking through the window at the playing hill. And there, as if bewildered by a veil of joyful tears, she saw with her memory, not her eyes; as if fearing to soil with a hot hand her picture, she painted with her fancy, not with her brush; dreading the intervention of a thrill, she offered an embrace with her heart, not her breast; unable to bear his delay in coming, she sent her mind, not her servants, to meet him.

'"Meanwhile, Candrapida willingly entered the jewelled house, as if it were a second heart of Kadambari. On the rock was strewn a blanket, with pillows piled on it at either end, and thereon he lay down, with his feet in Keyuraka's lap, while the maidens sat round him in the places appointed for them. With a heart in turmoil he betook himself to reflection: 'Are these graces of Princess Kadambari, that steal all men's hearts, innate in her, or has Love, with kindness won by no service of mine, ordained them for me? (380) For she gave me a sidelong glance with loving, reddened eyes half curved as if they were covered with the pollen of Love's flowery darts as they fell on her heart. She modestly veiled herself with a bright smile fair as silk as I looked at her. She offered the mirror of her cheek to receive my image, as in shame at my gaze she averted her face. She sketched on the couch with her nail the first trace of wilfulness of a heart that was giving me entrance. Her hand, moist with the fatigue of bringing me the betel, seemed in its trembling to fan her hot face, as if it were a tamala branch she had taken, for a swarm of bees hovered round it, mistaking it for a rosy lotus. Perhaps,' he went on to reflect, 'the light readiness to hope so common among mortals is now deceiving me with a throng of vain desires; and the glow of youth, devoid of judgment, or Love himself, makes my brain reel; whence the eyes of the young, as though struck by cataract, magnify even a small spot; and a tiny speck of affection is spread far by youthful ardour as by water. An excited heart like a poet's imagination is bewildered by the throng of fancies that it calls up of itself, and draws likenesses from everything; youthful feelings in the hand of cunning love are as a brush, and shrink from painting nothing; and imagination, proud of her suddenly gained beauty, turns in every direction. (381) Longing shows as in a dream what I have felt. Hope, like a conjuror's wand, [303] sets before us what can never be. Why, then,' thought he again, 'should I thus weary my mind in vain? If this bright-eyed maiden is indeed thus inclined towards me, Love, who is so kind without my asking, will ere long make it plain to me. He will be the decider of this doubt.' Having at length come to this decision, he rose, then sat down, and merrily joined the damsels in gentle talk and graceful amus.e.m.e.nts--with dice, song, lute, tabor, concerts of mingled sound, and murmur of tender verse. After resting a short time he went out to see the park, and climbed to the top of the pleasure hill.

'"Kadambari saw him, and bade that the window should be opened to watch for Mahacveta's return, saying, 'She tarries long,' and, with a heart tossed by Love, mounted to the roof of the palace. There she stayed with a few attendants, protected from the heat by a gold-handled umbrella, white as the full moon, and fanned by the waving of four yaks' tails pure as foam. She seemed to be practising an adornment fit for going to meet [304] Candrapida, by means of the bees which hovered round her head, eager for the scent of the flowers, which veiled her even by day in darkness. Now she leaned on the point of the cowrie, now on the stick of the umbrella; now she laid her hands on Tamalika's shoulder, (382), now she clung to Madalekha; now she hid herself amidst her maidens, looking with sidelong glance; now she turned herself round; now she laid her cheek on the tip of the portress's staff; now with a steady hand she placed betel on her fresh lips; now she laughingly ran a few steps in pursuit of her maidens scattered by the blows of the lotuses she threw at them. And in looking at the prince, and being gazed at by him, she knew not how long a time had pa.s.sed. At last a portress announced Mahacveta's return, and she went down, and albeit unwilling, yet to please Mahacveta she bathed and performed the wonted duties of the day.

'"But Candrapida went down, and dismissing Kadambari's followers, performed the rites of bathing, and wors.h.i.+pped the deity honoured throughout the mountain, and did all the duties of the day, including his meal, on the pleasure hill. There he sat on an emerald seat which commanded the front of the pleasure hill, pleasant, green as a pigeon, bedewed with foam from the chewing of fawns, s.h.i.+ning like Yamuna's waters standing still in fear of Balarama's plough, glowing crimson with lac-juice from the girls' feet, sanded with flower-dust, hidden in a bower, a concert-house of peac.o.c.ks. He suddenly beheld day eclipsed by a stream of white radiance, rich in glory, (383) light drunk up as by a garland of lotus-fibres, earth flooded as by a Milky Ocean, s.p.a.ce bedewed as by a storm of sandal-juice, and the sky painted as with white chunam.

'"'What!' thought he, 'is our lord, the Moon, king of plants, suddenly risen, or are a thousand shower-baths set going with their white streams let loose by a spring, or is it the heavenly Ganges, whitening the earth with her wind-tossed spray, that has come down to earth in curiosity?'

[305]'"Then, turning his eyes in the direction of the light, he beheld Kadambari, and with her Madalekha and Taralika bearing a pearl necklace on a tray covered with white silk. (384) Thereupon Candrapida decided that it was this necklace that eclipsed [306]

moonlight, and was the cause of the brightness, and by rising while she was yet far off, and by all wonted courtesies, he greeted the approach of Madalekha. For a moment she rested on that emerald seat, and then, rising, anointed him with sandal perfume, put on him two white robes, (385) crowned him with malati flowers, and then gave him the necklace, saying, 'This thy gentleness, my Prince, so devoid of pride, must needs subjugate every heart. Thy kindness gives an opening even to one like me; by thy form thou art lord of life to all; by that tenderness shown even where there is no claim on thee, thou throwest on all a bond of love; the innate sweetness of thy bearing makes every man thy friend; these thy virtues, manifested with such natural gentleness, give confidence to all. Thy form must take the blame, for it inspires trust even at first sight; else words addressed to one of such dignity as thou would seem all unmeet. For to speak with thee would be an insult; our very respect would bring on us the charge of forwardness; our very praise would display our boldness; our subservience would manifest lightness, our love self-deception, our speech to thee audacity, our service impertinence, our gift an insult. Nay, more, thou hast conquered our hearts; what is left for us to give thee? Thou art lord of our life; what can we offer thee? Thou hast already bestowed the great favour of thy presence; what return could we make? Thou by thy sight hast made our life worth having; how can we reward thy coming? (386) Therefore Kadambari with this excuse shows her affection rather than her dignity. n.o.ble hearts admit no question of mine and thine. Away with the thought of dignity. Even if she accepted slavery to one like thee, she would do no unworthy act; even if she gave herself to thee, she would not be deceived; if she gave her life, she would not repent. The generosity of a n.o.ble heart is always bent on kindness, and does not willingly reject affection, and askers are less shamefaced than givers. But it is true that Kadambari knows she has offended thee in this matter. Now, this necklace, called cesha, [307] because it was the only jewel left of all that rose at the churning of nectar, was for that reason greatly valued by the Lord of Ocean, and was given by him to Varuna on his return home. By the latter it was given to the Gandharva king, and by him to Kadambari. And she, thinking thy form worthy of this ornament, in that not the earth, but the sky, is the home of the moon, hath sent it to thee. And though men like thee, who bear no ornament but a n.o.ble spirit, find it irksome to wear the gems honoured by meaner men, yet here Kadambari's affection is a reason for thee to do so. (387) Did not Vishnu show his reverence by wearing on his breast the kaustubha gem, because it rose with Lakshmi; and yet he was not greater than thee, nor did the kaustubha gem in the least surpa.s.s the cesha in worth; nor, indeed, does Lakshmi approach in the slightest degree to imitating Kadambari's beauty. And in truth, if her love is crushed by thee, she will grieve Mahacveta [308] with a thousand reproaches, and will slay herself. Mahacveta therefore sends Taralika with the necklace to thee, and bids me say thus: "Let not Kadambari's first impulse of love be crushed by thee, even in thought, most n.o.ble prince."' Thus having said, she fastened on his breast the necklace that rested like a bevy of stars on the slope of the golden mountain. Filled with amazement, Candrapida replied: 'What means this, Madalekha? Thou art clever, and knowest how to win acceptance for thy gifts. By leaving me no chance of a reply, thou hast shown skill in oratory. Nay, foolish maiden, what are we in respect of thee, or of acceptance and refusal; truly this talk is nought. Having received kindness from ladies so rich in courtesy, let me be employed in any matter, whether pleasing or displeasing to me. But truly there lives not the man whom the virtues of the most courteous lady Kadambari do not discourteously [309] enslave.' (388) Thus saying, after some talk about Kadambari, he dismissed Madalekha, and ere she had long gone the daughter of Citraratha dismissed her attendants, rejected the insignia of wand, umbrella, and cowrie, and accompanied only by Tamalika, again mounted to the roof of her palace to behold Candrapida, bright with pearls, silk raiment and sandal, go to the pleasure hill, like the moon to the mount of rising. There, with pa.s.sionate glances imbued with every grace, she stole his heart. (390) And when it became too dark to see, she descended from the roof, and Candrapida, from the slope of the hill.

'"Then the moon, source of nectar, gladdener of all eyes, arose with his rays gathered in; he seemed to be wors.h.i.+pped by the night-lotuses, to calm the quarters whose faces were dark as if with anger, and to avoid the day-lotuses as if from fear of waking them; under the guise of his mark he wore night on his heart; he bore in the glow of rising the lac that had clung to him from the spurning of Rohini's feet; he pursued the sky, in its dark blue veil, like a mistress; and by reason of his great goodwill, spread beauty everywhere.

'"And when the moon, the umbrella of the supreme rule of Kama, the lord of the lotuses, the ivory earring that decks the night, had risen, and when the world was turned to whiteness, as though overlaid with ivory, Candrapida lay down on a cool moonlit slab, pearl white, pointed out by Kadambari's servants. It was washed with fresh sandal, garlanded with pure sinduvara flowers, and carved round with a leafy tracery of lotus petals. It lay on the sh.o.r.e of a palace lotus tank, that seemed from the full moonlight to be made of night-lotuses, [310] with steps white with bricks washed by the waves, as it wafted a breeze fanned by the ripples; (391) pairs of hamsas lay there asleep, and pairs of cakravakas kept up their dirge of separation thereon. And while the Prince yet rested there Keyuraka approached him, and told him that Princess Kadambari had come to see him. Then Candrapida rose hastily, and beheld Kadambari drawing near. Few of her friends were with her; all her royal insignia were removed; she was as it were a new self, in the single necklace she wore; her slender form was white with the purest sandal-juice; an earring hung from one ear; she wore a lotus-petal in the ear, soft as a budding digit of the moon; she was clad in robes of the kalpa-tree, [311] clear as moonlight; and in the garb that consorted with that hour she stood revealed like the very G.o.ddess of moonrise, as she rested on the hand offered by Madalekha. Drawing near, she showed a grace prompted by love, and took her seat on the ground, where servants are wont to sit, like a maiden of low degree; and Candrapida, too, though often entreated by Madalekha to sit on the rocky seat, took his place on the ground by Madalekha; and when all the women were seated he made an effort to speak, saying, 'Princess, to one who is thy slave, and whom even a glance gladdens, there needs not the favour of speech with thee, far less so great a grace as this. (392) For, deeply as I think, I cannot see in myself any worth that this height of favour may befit. Most n.o.ble and sweet in its laying aside of pride is this thy courtesy, in that such grace is shown to one but newly thy servant. Perchance thou thinkest me a churl that must be won by gifts. Blessed, truly, is the servant over whom is thy sway! How great honour is bestowed on the servants deemed worthy of the bestowal of thy commands. But the body is a gift at the service of any man, and life is light as gra.s.s, so that I am ashamed in my devotion to greet thy coming with such a gift. Here am I, here my body, my life, my senses! Do thou, by accepting one of them, raise it to honour.'

'"Madalekha smilingly replied to this speech of his: 'Enough, Prince. My friend Kadambari is pained by thy too great ceremony. Why speakest thou thus? She accepts thy words without further talk. And why, too, is she brought to suspense by these too flattering speeches?' and then, waiting a short time, she began afresh: 'How is King Tarapida, how Queen Vilasavati, how the n.o.ble cukanasa? What is Ujjayini like, and how far off is it? What is the land of Bharata? And is the world of mortals pleasant?' So she questioned him. (393) After spending some time in such talk, Kadambari rose, and summoning Keyuraka, who was lying near Candrapida, and her attendants, she went up to her sleeping-chamber. There she adorned a couch strewn with a coverlet of white silk. Candrapida, however, on his rock pa.s.sed the night like a moment in thinking, while his feet were rubbed by Keyuraka, of the humility, beauty, and depth of Kadambari's character, the causeless kindness of Mahacveta, the courtesy of Madalekha, the dignity of the attendants, the great splendour of the Gandharva world, and the charm of the Kimpurusha land.

'"Then the moon, lord of stars, weary of being kept awake by the sight of Kadambari, descended, as if to sleep, to the forest on the sh.o.r.e, with its palms and tamalas, talis, banyans, and kandalas, [312] cool with the breeze from the hardly stirred [313] ripples. As though with the feverish sighs of a woman grieving for her lover's approaching absence, the moonlight faded away. Lakshmi, having pa.s.sed the night on the moon lotuses, lay on the sun lotuses, as though love had sprung up in her at the sight of Candrapida. At the close of night, when the palace lamps grew pale, as if dwindling in longing as they remembered the blows of the lotuses in maidens' ears, the breezes of dawn, fragrant with creeper-flowers, were wafted, sportive with the sighs of Love weary from ceaselessly discharging his shafts; the stars were eclipsed by the rising dawn, and took their abode, as through fear, in the thick creeper bowers of Mount Mandara. [314] (394) Then when the sun arose, with its...o...b..crimson as if a glow remained from dwelling in the hearts of the cakravakas, Candrapida, rising from the rock, bathed his lotus face, said his morning prayer, took his betel, and then bade Keyuraka see whether Princess Kadambari was awake or no, and where she was; and when it was announced to him by the latter on his return that she was with Mahacveta in the bower of the courtyard below the Mandara palace, he started to see the daughter of the Gandharva king. There he beheld Mahacveta surrounded by wandering ascetic women like visible G.o.ddesses of prayer, with marks of white ash on their brow, and hands quickly moving as they turned their rosaries; bearing the vow of civa's followers, clad in robes tawny with mineral dyes, bound to wear red cloth, robed in the ruddy bark of ripe cocoanuts, or girdled with thick white cloth; with fans of white cloth; with staves, matted locks, deer-skins, and bark dresses; with the marks of male ascetics; reciting the pure praises of civa, Durga, Kartikeya, Vicravasa, [315] Krishna, Avalokitecvara, the Arhat, Virinca. [316]

Mahacveta herself was showing honour to the elder kinswomen of the king, the foremost of the zenana, by salutes, courteous speeches, by rising to meet them and placing reed seats for them.

(395) '"He beheld Kadambari also giving her attention to the recitation of the Mahabharata, that transcends all good omens, by Narada's sweet-voiced daughter, with an accompaniment of flutes soft as the murmur of bees, played by a pair of Kinnaras sitting behind her. She was looking in a mirror fixed before her at her lip, pale as beeswax when the honey is gone, bathed in the moonlight of her teeth, though within it was darkened by betel. She was being honoured by a sunwise turn in departing by a tame goose wandering like the moon in a fixed circle, with wide eyes raised to her sirisha earrings in its longing for vallisneria. Here the prince approached, and, saluting her, sat down on a seat placed on the dais. After a short stay he looked at Mahacveta's face with a gentle smile that dimpled his cheek, and she, at once knowing his wish, said to Kadambari: 'Dear friend, Candrapida is softened by thy virtues as the moonstone by the moon, and cannot speak for himself. He wishes to depart; for the court he has left behind is thrown into distress, not knowing what has happened. Moreover, however far apart you may be from each other, this your love, like that of the sun and the day lotus, or the moon and the night lotus, will last till the day of doom. Therefore let him go.'

(396) '"'Dear Mahacveta,' replied Kadambari, 'I and my retinue belong as wholly to the prince as his own soul. Why, then, this ceremony?' So saying, and summoning the Gandharva princes, she bade them escort the prince to his own place, and he, rising, bowed before Mahacveta first, and then Kadambari, and was greeted by her with eyes and heart softened by affection; and with the words, 'Lady, what shall I say? For men distrust the mult.i.tude of words. Let me be remembered in the talk of thy retinue,' he went out of the zenana; and all the maidens but Kadambari, drawn by reverence for Candrapida's virtues, followed him on his way like his subjects to the outer gate.

'"On their return, he mounted the steed brought by Keyuraka, and, escorted by the Gandharva princes, turned to leave Hemakuta. His whole thoughts on the way were about Kadambari in all things both within and without. With a mind wholly imbued with her, he beheld her behind him, dwelling within him in his bitter grief for the cruel separation; or before him, stopping him in his path; or cast on the sky, as if by the force of longing in his heart troubled by parting, so that he could perfectly see her face; he beheld her very self resting on his heart, as if her mind were wounded with his loss. When he reached Mahacveta's hermitage, he there beheld his own camp, which had followed the tracks of Indrayudha.

(397) '"Dismissing the Gandharva princes, he entered his own abode amidst the salutations of his troops full of joy, curiosity, and wonder; and after greeting the rest of the court, he spent the day mostly in talk with Vaicampayana and Patralekha, saying, 'Thus said Mahacveta, thus Kadambari, thus Madalekha, thus Tamalika, thus Keyuraka.' No longer did royal Glory, envious at the sight of Kadambari's beauty, find in him her joy; for him night pa.s.sed in wakefulness as he thought, with a mind in ceaseless longing, of that bright-eyed maiden. Next morning, at sunrise, he went to his pavilion with his mind still fixed on her, and suddenly saw Keyuraka entering with a doorkeeper; and as the latter, while yet far off, cast himself on the ground, so that his crest swept the floor, Candrapida cried, 'Come, come,' greeting him first with a sidelong glance, then with his heart, then with a thrill. Then at last he hastened forward to give him a hearty and frank embrace, and made him sit down by himself. Then, in words brightened by the nectar of a smile, and transfused with overflowing love, he reverently asked: 'Say, Keyuraka, is the lady Kadambari well, and her friends, and her retinue, and the lady Mahacveta?' With a low bow, Keyuraka, as though he had been bathed, anointed, and refreshed by the smile that the prince's deep affection had prompted, replied respectfully:

'"'She is now well, in that my lord asks for her.' And then he showed a folded lotus-leaf, wrapped in wet cloth, with its opening closed by lotus filaments, and a seal of tender lotus filaments set in a paste of wet sandal. (398) This he opened, and showed the tokens sent by Kadambari, such as milky betel-nuts of emerald hue, with their sh.e.l.ls removed and surrounded with fresh sprays, betel-leaves pale as the cheek of a hen-parrot, camphor like a solid piece of civa's moon, and sandal ointment pleasant with rich musk scent. 'The lady Kadambari,' said he, 'salutes thee with folded hands that kiss her crest, and that are rosy with the rays of her tender fingers; Mahacveta with a greeting and embrace; Madalekha with a reverence and a brow bathed in the moonlight of the crest-gem she has let fall; the maidens with the points of the fish-ornaments and the parting of their hair resting on the ground; and Taralika, with a prostration to touch the dust of thy feet. Mahacveta sends thee this message: "Happy truly are they from whose eyes thou art never absent. For in truth thy virtues, snowy, cold as the moon when thou art by, in thine absence burn like sunlight. Truly all yearn for the past day as though it were that day whereon fate with such toil brought forth amrita. Without thee the royal Gandharva city is languid as at the end of a feast. (399) Thou knowest that I have surrendered all things; yet my heart, in my despite, desires to see thee who art so undeservedly kind. Kadambari, moreover, is far from well. She recalls thee with thy smiling face like Love himself. Thou, by the honour of thy return, canst make her proud of having some virtues of her own. For respect shown by the n.o.ble must needs confer honour. And thou must forgive the trouble of knowing such as we. For thine own n.o.bility gives this boldness to our address. And here is this cesha necklace, which was left by thee on thy couch."' So saying, he loosed it from his band, where it was visible by reason of the long rays that shot through the interstices of the fine thread, and placed it in the fan-bearer's hand.

'"'This, indeed, is the reward of doing homage at Mahacveta's feet, that the lady Kadambari should lay so great a weight of honour on her slave as to remember him," said Candrapida, as he placed all on his head [317] and accepted it. The necklace he put round his neck, after anointing it with an ointment cool, pleasant, and fragrant, as it were with the beauty of Kadambari's cheeks distilled, or the light of her smile liquefied, or her heart melted, or her virtues throbbing forth. (400) Taking some betel, he rose and stood, with his left arm on Keyuraka's shoulder, and then dismissed the courtiers, who were gladly paying their wonted homage, and at length went to see his elephant Gandhamadana. There he stayed a short time, and after he had himself given to the elephant a handful of gra.s.s, that, being jagged with the rays of his nails, was like lotus-fibre, he went to the stable of his favourite steed. On the way he turned his face now on this side, now on that, to glance at his retinue, and the porters, understanding his wish, forbade all to follow him, and dismissed the retinue, so that he entered the stable with Keyuraka alone. The grooms bowed and departed, with eyes bewildered by terror at their dismissal, and the prince set straight Indrayudha's cloth, which had fallen a little on one side, pushed back his mane, tawny as a lion's, which was falling on his eyes and half closing them, and then, negligently resting his foot on the peg of the tethering-rope, and leaning against the stable wall, he eagerly asked:

'"'Tell me, Keyuraka, what has happened in the Gandharva court since my departure? In what occupation has the Gandharva princess spent the time? What were Mahacveta and Madalekha doing? What talk was there? How were you and the retinue employed? And was there any talk about me?' Then Keyuraka told him all: 'Listen, prince. On thy departure, the lady Kadambari, with her retinue, climbed to the palace roof, making in the maidens' palace with the sound of anklets the beat of farewell drums that rose from a thousand hearts; (401) and she gazed on thy path, gray with the dust of the cavalcade. When thou wert out of sight, she laid her face on Mahacveta's shoulder, and, in her love, sprinkled the region of thy journey with glances fair as the Milky Ocean, and, warding off the sun's touch, as it were, with the moon a.s.suming in jealousy the guise of a white umbrella, she long remained there. Thence she reluctantly tore herself away and came down, and after but a short rest in the pavilion, she arose and went to the pleasaunce where thou hadst been. She was guided by bees murmuring in the flowers of oblation; startled by the cry of the house peac.o.c.ks, she checked their note as they looked up at the shower-like rays of her nails, by the circlets which lay loose round her throat; at every step she let her hand rest on creeper-twigs white with flowers, and her mind on thy virtues. When she reached the pleasaunce, her retinue needlessly told her: "Here the prince stayed on the spray-washed rock, with its creeper-bower bedewed by the stream from a pipe that ends in an emerald fish-head; here he bathed in a place covered by bees absorbed in the fragrance of the scented water; here he wors.h.i.+pped civa on the bank of the mountain stream, sandy with flower-dust; here he ate on a crystal stone which eclipsed moonlight; and here he slept on a pearly slab with a mark of sandal-juice imprinted on it." (402) And so she pa.s.sed the day, gazing on the signs of thy presence; and at close of day Mahacveta prepared for her, though against her will, a meal in that crystal dwelling. And when the sun set and the moon rose, soon, as though she were a moonstone that moonlight would melt, and therefore dreaded the entrance of the moon's reflection, she laid her hands on her cheeks, and, as if in thought, remained for a few minutes with closed eyes; and then rising, went to her sleeping-chamber, scarcely raising her feet as they moved with graceful, languid gait, seemingly heavy with bearing the moon's reflection on their bright nails. Throwing herself on her couch, she was racked by a severe headache, and overcome by a burning fever, and, in company with the palace-lamps, the moon-lotuses, and the cakravakas, she pa.s.sed the night open-eyed in bitter grief. And at dawn she summoned me, and reproachfully bade me seek for tidings of thee.'

'"At these words, Candrapida, all eager to depart, shouted: 'A horse! a horse!' and left the palace. Indrayudha was hastily saddled, and brought round by the grooms, and Candrapida mounted, placing Patralekha behind him, leaving Vaicampayana in charge of the camp, dismissing all his retinue, and followed by Keyuraka on another steed, he went to Hemakuta. (403) On his arrival, he dismounted at the gate of Kadambari's palace, giving his horse to the doorkeeper, and, followed by Patralekha, eager for the first sight of Kadambari, he entered, and asked a eunuch who came forward where the lady Kadambari was. Bending low, the latter informed him, that she was in the ice-bower on the bank of the lotus-tank below the Mattamayura pleasaunce; and then the prince, guided by Keyuraka, went some distance through the women's garden, and beheld day grow green, and the sunbeams turn into gra.s.s by the reflection of the plantain-groves with their emerald glow, and there he beheld Kadambari. (410) Then she looked with tremulous glance at her retinue, as, coming in one after another, they announced Candrapida's approach, and asked each by name: 'Tell me, has he really come, and hast thou seen him? How far off is he?' She gazed with eyes gradually brightening as she saw him yet afar off, and rose from her couch of flowers, standing like a newly-caught elephant bound to her post, and trembling in every limb. She was veiled in bees drawn as va.s.sals by the fragrance of her flowery couch, all murmuring; her upper garment was in confusion, and she sought to place on her bosom the s.h.i.+ning necklace; (411) she seemed to beg the support of a hand from her own shadow as she laid her left hand on the jewelled pavement; she seemed to receive herself as a gift by sprinkling [318] with her right hand moist with the toil of binding together her falling locks; she poured forth tears of joy cool as though the sandal-juice of her sectarial mark had entered in and been united with them; she washed with a line of glad tears her smooth cheeks, that the pollen from her garland had tinged with gray, as if in eagerness that the image of her beloved might fall thereon; she seemed to be drawn forward by her long eyes fastened on Candrapida's face, with its pupil fixed in a sidelong glance, and her head somewhat bent, as if from the weight of the sandal-mark on her brow.

'"And Candrapida, approaching, bowed first before Mahacveta, then courteously saluted Kadambari, and when she had returned his obeisance, and seated herself again on the couch, and the portress had brought him a gold stool with legs gleaming with gems, he pushed it away with his foot, and sat down on the ground. Then Keyuraka presented Patralekha, saying: 'This is Prince Candrapida's betel-box bearer and most favoured friend.' And Kadambari, looking on her, thought: 'How great partiality does Praj.a.pati bestow on mortal women!' And as Patralekha bowed respectfully, she bade her approach, and placed her close behind herself, amidst the curious glances of all her retinue. (412) Filled even at first sight with great love for her, Kadambari often touched her caressingly with her slender hand.

'"Now, Candrapida, having quickly performed all the courtesies of arrival, beheld the state of Citraratha's daughter, and thought: 'Surely my heart is dull, in that it cannot even now believe. Be it so. I will, nevertheless, ask her with a skilfully-devised speech.' [319] Then he said aloud: 'Princess, I know that this pain, with its unceasing torment, has come on thee from love. Yet, slender maiden, it torments thee not as us. I would gladly, by the offering of myself, restore thee to health. For I pity thee as thou tremblest; and as I see thee fallen under the pain of love, my heart, too, falls prostrate. For thine arms are slender and unadorned, and thou bearest in thine eye a red lotus like a hybiscus [320] from the deep wasting of fever. And all thy retinue weep ceaselessly for thy pain. Accept thine ornaments. Take of thine own accord thy richest adornments; for as the creeper s.h.i.+nes hidden in bees and flowers, so shouldst thou.'

'"Then Kadambari, though naturally simple by reason of her youth, yet, from a knowledge taught by love, understood all the meaning of this darkly-expressed speech. (413) Yet, not realizing that she had come to such a point in her desires, supported by her modesty, she remained silent. She sent forth, however, the radiance of a smile at that moment on some pretext, as though to see his face darkened by the bees which were gathered round its sweetness. Madalekha therefore replied: 'Prince, what shall I say? This pain is cruel beyond words. Moreover, in one of so delicate a nature what does not tend to pain? Even cool lotus-fibres turn to fire and moonlight burns. Seest thou not the pain produced in her mind by the breezes of the fans? Only her strength of mind keeps her alive.' But in heart alone did Kadambari admit Madalekha's words as an answer to the prince. His mind, however, was in suspense from the doubtfulness of her meaning, and after spending some time in affectionate talk with Mahacveta, at length with a great effort he withdrew himself, and left Kadambari's palace to go to the camp.

'"As he was about to mount his horse, Keyuraka came up behind him, and said: 'Prince, Madalekha bids me say that Princess Kadambari, ever since she beheld Patralekha, has been charmed by her, and wishes to keep her. She shall return later. (414) Having heard her message, thou must decide' 'Happy,' replied the prince, 'and enviable is Patralekha, in that she is honoured by so rare a favour by the princess. Let her be taken in.' So saying, he went to the camp.

'"At the moment of his arrival he beheld a letter-carrier well known to him, that had come from his father's presence, and, stopping his horse, he asked from afar, with eyes widened by affection: 'Is my father well, and all his retinue? and my mother and all the zenana?' Then the man, approaching with a reverence, saying, 'As thou sayest, prince,' gave him two letters. Then the prince, placing them on his head, and himself opening them in order, read as follows: 'Hail from Ujjayini. King Tarapida, king of kings, whose lotus-feet are made the crest on the head of all kings, greets Candrapida, the home of all good fortune, kissing him on his head, which kisses the circle of the flas.h.i.+ng rays of his crest jewels. Our subjects are well. Why has so long a time pa.s.sed since we have seen thee? Our heart longs eagerly for thee. The queen and the zenana pine for thee. Therefore, let the cutting short of this letter be a cause of thy setting out.' And in the second letter, sent by cukanasa, he read words of like import. Vaicampayana, too, at that moment came up, and showed another pair of letters of his own to the same effect. (415) So with the words, 'As my father commands,' he at once mounted his horse, and caused the drum of departure to be sounded. He instructed Meghanada, son of Balahaka, the commander-in-chief, who stood near him surrounded by a large troop: 'Thou must come with Patralekha. Keyuraka will surely bring her as far as here, and by his lips a message must be sent with a salutation to Princess Kadambari. Truly the nature of mortals deserves the blame of the three worlds, for it is discourteous, unfriendly, and hard to grasp, in that, when the loves of men suddenly clash, they do not set its full value on spontaneous tenderness. Thus, by my going, my love has become a cheating counterfeit; my faith has gained skill in false tones; my self-devotion has sunk into base deceit, having only a pretended sweetness; and the variance of voice and thought has been laid bare. But enough of myself. The princess, though a mate for the G.o.ds, has, by showing her favour to an unworthy object, [321] incurred reproach. For the ambrosially kind glances of the great, when they fall in vain on unfitting objects, cause shame afterwards. And yet my heart is not so much weighed down by shame for her as for Mahacveta. For the princess will doubtless often blame her for her ill-placed partiality in having painted my virtues with a false imputation of qualities I did not possess. What, then, shall I do? My parents' command is the weightier. Yet it controls my body alone. (416) But my heart, in its yearning to dwell at Hemakuta, has written a bond of slavery for a thousand births to Princess Kadambari, [322] and her favour holds it fast [323] as the dense thicket holds a forester. Nevertheless, I go at my father's command. Truly from this cause the infamous Candrapida will be a byword to the people. Yet, think not that Candrapida, if he lives, will rest without again tasting the joy of wors.h.i.+pping the lotus-feet of the princess. Salute with bent head and sunwise turn the feet of Mahacveta. Tell Madalekha that a hearty embrace, preceded by an obeisance, is offered her; salute Tamalika, and inquire on my behalf after all Kadambari's retinue. Let blessed Hemakuta be honoured by me with upraised hands.' After giving this message, he set Vaicampayana over the camp, instructing his friend to march [324] slowly, without overtasking the army. Then he mounted, accompanied by his cavalry, mostly mounted on young horses, wearing the grace of a forest of spears, breaking up the earth with their hoofs, and shaking Kailasa with their joyful neighing as they set out; and though his heart was empty, in the fresh separation from Kadambari, he asked the letter-carrier who clung to his saddle concerning the way to Ujjayini.

(417-426 condensed) '"And on the way he beheld in the forest a red flag, near which was a shrine of Durga, guarded by an old Dravidian hermit, who made his abode thereby.

(426) '"Dismounting, he entered, and bent reverently before the G.o.ddess, and, bowing again after a sunwise turn, he wandered about, interested in the calm of the place, and beheld on one side the wrathful hermit, howling and shouting at him; and at the sight, tossed as he was by pa.s.sionate longing in his absence from Kadambari, he could not forbear smiling a moment; but he checked his soldiers, who were laughing and beginning a quarrel with the hermit; and at length, with great difficulty, he calmed him with many a soothing and courteous speech, and asked him about his birthplace, caste, knowledge, wife and children, wealth, age, and the cause of his ascetic vow. On being asked, the latter described himself, and the prince was greatly interested by him as he garrulously described his past heroism, beauty, and wealth, and thus diverted his mind in its soreness of bereavement; and, having become friendly with him, he caused betel to be offered to him. (427) When the sun set, the princes encamped under the trees that chanced [325] to be near; the golden saddles of the steeds were hung on boughs; the steeds showed the exertions they had gone through, from the tossing of their manes dusty with rolling on the earth, and after they had taken some handfuls of gra.s.s and been watered, and were refreshed, they were tethered, with the spears dug into the ground before them; the soldiery, wearied [326] with the day's march, appointed a watch, and gladly went to sleep on heaps of leaves near the horses; the encampment was bright as day, for the darkness was drunk up by the light of many a bivouac fire, and Candrapida went to a couch prepared for him by his retinue, and pointed out to him by his porters, in front of the place where Indrayudha was tethered. But the very moment he lay down restlessness seized his heart, and, overcome by pain, he dismissed the princes, and said nothing even to the special favourites who stood behind him. With closed eyes he again and again went in heart to the Kimpurusha land. With fixed thought he recalled Hemakuta. He thought on the spontaneous kindness of Mahacveta's favours. [327] He constantly longed for the sight of Kadambari as his life's highest fruit. He continually desired the converse of Madalekha, so charming in its absence of pride. He wished to see Tamalika. He looked forward to Keyuraka's coming. He beheld in fancy the winter palace. He often sighed a long, feverish sigh. He bestowed on the cesha necklace a kindness beyond that for his kin. (428) He thought he saw fortunate Patralekha standing behind him. Thus he pa.s.sed the night without sleep; and, rising at dawn, he fulfilled the hermit's wish by wealth poured out at his desire, and, sojourning at pleasant spots on the way, in a few days he reached Ujjayini. A thousand hands, like lotuses of offering to a guest raised in reverent salutation, were raised by the citizens in their confusion and joy at his sudden coming, as he then unexpectedly entered the city. The king heard from the retinue [328] hastening to be first to tell him that Candrapida was at the gate, and bewildered by sudden gladness, with steps slow from the weight of joy, he went to meet his son. Like Mandara, he drew to himself as a Milky Ocean his spotless silk mantle that was slipping down; like the kalpa-tree, with its shower of choice pearls, he rained tears of gladness; he was followed by a thousand chiefs that were round him--chiefs with topknots white with age, anointed with sandal, wearing untorn [329] linen robes, bracelets, turbans, crests and wreaths, bearing swords, staves, umbrellas and cowries, making the earth appear rich in Kailasas and Milky Oceans. The prince, seeing his father from afar, dismounted, and touched the ground with a head garlanded by the rays of his crest-jewels. Then his father stretched out his arms, bidding him approach, and embraced him closely; and when he had paid his respects to all the honourable persons who were there, he was led by the king to Vilasavati's palace. (429) His coming was greeted by her and her retinue, and when he had performed all the auspicious ceremonies of arrival, he stayed some time in talk about his expedition of conquest, and then went to see cukanasa. Having duly stayed there some time, he told him that Vaicampayana was at the camp and well, and saw Manorama; and then returning, he mechanically [330] performed the ceremonies of bathing, and so forth, in Vilasavati's palace. On the morrow he went to his own palace, and there, with a mind tossed by anxiety, he deemed that not only himself, but his palace and the city, and, indeed, the whole world, was but a void without Kadambari, and so, in his longing to hear news of her, he awaited the return of Patralekha, as though it were a festival, or the winning of a boon, or the time of the rising of amrita.

'"A few days later Meghanada came with Patralekha, and led her in; and as she made obeisance from afar, Candrapida smiled affectionately, and, rising reverently, embraced her; for though she was naturally dear to him, she was now yet dearer as having won a fresh splendour from Kadambari's presence. He laid his slender hand on Meghanada's back as he bent before him, and then, sitting down, he said: 'Tell me, Patralekha, is all well with Mahacveta and Madalekha, and the lady Kadambari? (430) And are all her retinue well, with Tamalika and Keyuraka?' 'Prince,' she replied, 'all is well, as thou sayest. The lady Kadambari, with her friends and retinue, do thee homage by making their raised hands into a wreath for their brows.' At these words the prince dismissed his royal retinue, and went with Patralekha into the palace. Then, with a tortured heart, no longer able from its intense love to overcome his eagerness to hear, he sent his retinue far away and entered the house. With his lotus-feet he pushed away the pair of hamsas that were sleeping happily on the slope beneath a leafy bower that made an emerald banner; and, resting in the midst of a fresh bed of hybiscus, that made a sunshade with its broad, long-stalked leaves, he sat down, and asked: 'Tell me, Patralekha, how thou hast fared. How many days wert thou there? What favour did the princess show thee? What talk was there, and what conversation arose? Who most remembers us, and whose affection is greatest?' [331]

Thus questioned, she told him: 'Give thy mind and hear all. When thou wert gone, I returned with Keyuraka, and sat down near the couch of flowers; and there I gladly remained, receiving ever fresh marks of kindness from the princess. What need of words? (431) The whole of that day her eye, her form, her hand, were on mine; her speech dwelt on my name and her heart on my love. On the morrow, leaning on me, she left the winter palace, and, wandering at will, bade her retinue remain behind, and entered the maidens' garden. By a flight of emerald steps, that might have been formed from Jamuna's [332] waves, she ascended to a white summer-house, and in it she stayed some time, leaning against a jewelled pillar, deliberating with her heart, wis.h.i.+ng to say something, and gazing on my face with fixed pupil and motionless eyelashes. As she looked she formed her resolve, and, as if longing to enter love's fire, she was bathed in perspiration; whereat a trembling came upon her, so that, shaking in every limb as though fearing to fall, she was seized by despair.

'"'But when I, who knew her thoughts, fixed my mind on her, and, fastening my eyes on her face, bade her speak, she seemed to be restrained by her own trembling limbs; with a toe that marked the floor as if for retreat, she seemed to rub out her own image in shame that it should hear her secret; (432) with her lotus foot--its anklets all set jingling by the scratching of the floor--she pushed aside the tame geese; with a strip of silk made into a fan for her hot face, she drove away the bees on her ear-lotuses; to the peac.o.c.k she gave, like a bribe, a piece of betel broken by her teeth; and gazing often on every side lest a wood-G.o.ddess should listen, much as she longed to speak, she was checked in her utterance by shame, and could not speak a word. [333] Her voice, in spite of her greatest efforts, was wholly burnt up by love's fire, borne away by a ceaseless flow of tears, overwhelmed by onrus.h.i.+ng griefs, broken by love's falling shafts, banished by invading sighs, restrained by the hundred cares that dwelt in her heart, and drunk by the bees that tasted her breath, so that it could not come forth. In brief, she made a pearl rosary to count her many griefs with the bright tears that fell without touching her cheeks, as with bent head she made the very image of a storm. Then from her shame learnt its full grace; modesty, a transcendant modesty; simplicity, simplicity; courtesy, courtesy; (433) fear, timidity; coquetry, its quintessence; despair, its own nature; and charm, a further charm. And so, when I asked her, "Princess, what means this?" she wiped her reddened eyes, and, holding a garland woven by the flowers of the bower with arms which, soft as lotus-fibres, seemed meant to hold her firmly in the excess of her grief, she raised one eyebrow, as if gazing on the path of death, and sighed a long, fevered sigh. And as, in desire to know the cause of her sorrow, I pressed her to tell me, she seemed to write on the ketaki petals scratched by her nails in her shame, and so deliver her message. She moved her lower lip in eagerness to speak, and seemed to be whispering to the bees who drank her breath, and thus she remained some time with eyes fixed on the ground.

'"'At last, often turning her glance to my face, she seemed to purify, with the tears that fell from her br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes, the voice that the smoke of Love's fire had dimmed. And, in the guise of tears, she bound up with the rays of her teeth, flas.h.i.+ng in a forced smile, the strange syllables of what she had meant to say, but forgotten in her tremor, and with great difficulty betook herself to speech. "Patralekha," she said to me, "by reason of my great favour for thee, neither father, mother, Mahacveta, Madalekha, nor life itself is dear to me as thou hast been since I first beheld thee. (434) I know not why my heart has cast off all my friends and trusts in thee alone. To whom else can I complain, or tell my humiliation, or give a share in my woe? When I have shown thee the unbearable burden of my woe, I will die. By my life I swear to thee I am put to shame by even my own heart's knowledge of my story; how much more by another's? How should such as I stain by ill report a race pure as moonbeams, and lose the honour which has descended from my sires, and turn my thoughts on unmaidenly levity, acting thus without my father's will, or my mother's bestowal, or my elders' congratulations, without any announcement, without sending of gifts, or showing of pictures? Timidly, as one unprotected, have I been led to deserve my parents' blame by that overweening Candrapida. Is this, I pray, the conduct of n.o.ble men? Is this the fruit of our meeting, that my heart, tender as a lotus filament, is now crushed? For maidens should not be lightly treated by youths; the fire of love is wont to consume first their reserve and then their heart; the arrows of love pierce first their dignity and then their life. Therefore, I bid thee farewell till our meeting in another birth, for none is dearer to me than thou. (435) By carrying out my resolve of death, I shall cleanse my own stain." So saying, she was silent.

'"'Not knowing the truth of her tale, I sorrowfully, as if ashamed, afraid, bewildered, and bereft of sense, adjured her, saying: "Princess, I long to hear. Tell me what Prince Candrapida has done. What offence has been committed? By what discourtesy has he vexed that lotus-soft heart of thine, that none should vex? When I have heard this, thou shalt die on my lifeless body." Thus urged, she again began: "I will tell thee; listen carefully. In my dreams that cunning villain comes daily and employs in secret messages a caged parrot and a starling. In my dreams he, bewildered in mind with vain desires, writes in my earrings to appoint meetings. He sends love-letters with their syllables washed away, filled with mad hopes, most sweet, and showing his own state by the lines of tears stained with pigment falling on them. By the glow of his feelings he dyes my feet against my will. In his reckless insolence he prides himself on his own reflection in my nails. (436) In his unwarranted boldness he embraces me against my will in the gardens when I am alone, and almost dead from fear of being caught, as the clinging of my silken skirts to the branches hinders my steps, and my friends the creepers seize and deliver me to him. Naturally crooked, he teaches the very essence of crookedness to a heart by nature simple by the blazonry he paints on my breast. Full of guileful flattery, he fans with his cool breath my cheeks all wet and s.h.i.+ning as with a breeze from the waves of my heart's longing. He boldly places the rays of his nails like young barley-sheaves on my ear, though his hand is empty, because its lotus has fallen from his grasp relaxed in weariness. He audaciously draws me by the hair to quaff the sweet wine of his breath, inhaled by him when he watered his favourite bakul-flowers. Mocked by his own folly, he demands on his head the touch of my foot, destined for the palace ac.o.ka-tree. [334] In his utter love madness, he says: 'Tell me, Patralekha, how a madman can be rejected?' For he considers refusal a sign of jealousy; he deems abuse a gentle jest; he looks on silence as pettishness; he regards the mention of his faults as a device for thinking of him; he views contempt as the familiarity of love; he esteems the blame of mankind as renown."

'"'A sweet joy filled me as I heard her say this, and I thought, (437) "Surely Love has led her far in her feelings for Candrapida. If this indeed be true, he shows in visible form, under the guise of Kadambari, his tender feeling towards the prince, and he is met by the prince's innate and carefully-trained virtues. The quarters gleam with his glory; a rain of pearls is cast by his youth on the waves of the ocean of tenderness; his name is written by his youthful gaiety on the moon; his own fortune is proclaimed by his happy lot; and nectar is showered down by his grace as by the digits of the moon."

'"'Moreover, the Malaya wind has at length its season; moonrise has gained its full chance; the luxuriance of spring flowers has won a fitting fruit; the sharpness of wine has mellowed to its full virtue, and the descent of love's era is now clearly manifest on earth.

'"'Then I smiled, and said aloud: "If it be so, princess, cease thy wrath. Be appeased. Thou canst not punish the prince for the faults of Kama. These truly are the sports of Love, the G.o.d of the Flowery Bow, not of a wanton Candrapida."

'"'As I said this, she eagerly asked me: "As for this Kama, whoever he may be, tell me what forms he a.s.sumes."

'"'"How can he have forms?" replied I. "He is a formless fire. For without flame he creates heat; without smoke he makes tears flow; without the dust of ashes he shows whiteness. Nor is there a being in all the wide universe who is not, or has not been, or will not be, the victim of his shaft. Who is there that fears him not? (438) Even a strong man is pierced by him when he takes in hand his flowery bow.

'"'"Moreover, when tender women are possessed by him, they gaze, and the sky is crowded with a thousand images of their beloved. They paint the loved form; the earth is a canvas all too small. They reckon the virtues of their hero; number itself fails them. They listen to talk about their dearest; the G.o.ddess of Speech herself seems all too silent. They muse on the joys of union with him who is their life; and time itself is all too short to their heart."

'"'She pondered a moment on this ere she replied: "As thou sayest, Patralekha, Love has led me into tenderness for the prince. For all these signs and more are found in me. Thou art one with my own heart, and I ask thee to tell me what I should now do? I am all unversed in such matters. Moreover, if I were forced to tell my parents, I should be so ashamed that my heart would choose death rather than life."

'"'Then again I answered; "Enough, princess! Why this needless talk of death as a necessary condition? [335] Surely, fair maiden, though thou hast not sought to please him, Love has in kindness given thee this boon. Why tell thy parents? Love himself, like a parent, plans for thee; (439) like a mother, he approves thee; like a father, he bestows thee; like a girl friend, he kindles thine affection; like a nurse, he teaches thy tender age the secrets of love. Why should I tell thee of those who have themselves chosen their lords? For were it not so, the ordinance of the svayamvara in our law-books [336]

would be meaningless. Be at rest, then, princess. Enough of this talk of death. I conjure thee by touching thy lotus-foot to send me. I am ready to go. I will bring back to thee, princess, thy heart's beloved."

'"'When I had said this, she seemed to drink me in with a tender glance; she was confused by an ardour of affection which, though restrained, found a path, and burst through the reserve that Love's shafts had pierced. In her pleasure at my words, she cast off the silken outer robe which clung to her through her weariness, and left it suspended on her thrilling limbs. [337] She loosened the moonbeam necklace on her neck, put there as a noose to hang herself, and entangled in the fish ornaments of her swinging earring. Yet, though her whole soul was in a fever of joy, she supported herself by the modesty which is a maiden's natural dower, and said: "I know thy great love. But how could a woman, tender of nature as a young cirisha-blossom, show such b