Part 17

(366) '"And as he thus thought his eye met hers, and she, thinking, 'This is he of whom Keyuraka spoke,' let her glance, widened by wonder at his exceeding beauty, dwell long and quietly on him. Confused by the sight of Kadambari, yet illumined by the brightness of her gaze, he stood for a moment like a rock, while at the sight of him a thrill rose in Kadambari, her jewels clashed, and she half rose. Then love caused a glow, but the excuse was the effort of hastily rising; trembling hindered her steps--the hamsas around, drawn by the sound of the anklets, got the blame; the heaving of a sigh stirred her robe--it was thought due to the wind of the cowries; her hand fell on her heart, as if to touch Candrapida's image that had entered in--it pretended to cover her bosom; she let fall tears of joy--the excuse was the pollen falling from the flowers in her ear. Shame choked her voice--the swarm of bees hastening to the lotus sweetness of her mouth was the cause; (367) the pain of the first touch of Love's arrow caused a sigh--the pain of the ketaki thorns amidst the flowers shared the guilt; a tremor shook her hand--keeping off the portress who had come with a message was her pretence; and while love was thus entering into Kadambari, a second love, as it were, arose, who with her entered the heart of Candrapida. For he thought the flash of her jewels but a veil, her entrance into his heart a favour, the tinkling of her gems a conversation, her capture of all his senses a grace, and contact with her bright beauty the fulfilment of all his wishes. Meanwhile Kadambari, advancing with difficulty a few steps, affectionately and with yearning embraced her friend, who also yearned for the sight of her so long delayed; and Mahaçveta returned her embrace yet more closely, and said, 'Dear Kadambari, in the land of Bharata there is a king named Tarapida, who wards off all grief [296] from his subjects, and who has impressed his seal on the Four Oceans by the edge of the hoofs of his noble steeds; and this his son, named Candrapida, decked [297] with the orb of earth resting on the support of his own rock-like arms, has, in pursuit of world conquest, approached this land; and he, from the moment I first beheld him, has instinctively become my friend, though there was nought to make him so; and, though my heart was cold from its resignation of all ties, yet he has attracted it by the rare and innate nobility of his character. (368) For it is rare to find a man of keen mind who is at once true of heart, unselfish in friendship, and wholly swayed by courtesy. Wherefore, having beheld him, I brought him hither by force. For I thought thou shouldst behold as I have done a wonder of Brahma's workmanship, a peerless owner of beauty, a supplanter of Lakshmi, earth's joy in a noble lord, the surpassing of gods by mortals, the full fruition of woman's eyes, the only meeting-place of all graces, the empire of nobility, and the mirror of courtesy for men. And my dear friend has often been spoken of to him by me. Therefore dismiss shame on the ground of his being unseen before, lay aside diffidence as to his being a stranger, cast away suspicion rising from his character being unknown, and behave to him as to me. He is thy friend, thy kinsman, and thy servant.' At these words of hers Candrapida bowed low before Kadambari, and as she glanced sideways at him affectionately there fell from her eyes, with their beautiful pupils turned towards the corner of their long orbs, a flood of joyous tears, as though from weariness. The moonlight of a smile, white as nectar, darted forth, as if it were the dust raised by the heart as it hastily set out; one eyebrow was raised as if to bid the head honour with an answering reverence the guest so dear to the heart; (369) her hand crept to her softly parting lips, and might seem, as the light of an emerald ring flashed between the fingers, to have taken some betel. She bowed diffidently, and then sat down on the couch with Mahaçveta, and the attendants quickly brought a stool with gold feet and a covering of white silk, and placed it near the couch, and Candrapida took his seat thereon. To please Mahaçveta, the portresses, knowing Kadambari's wishes, and having by a hand placed on closed lips received an order to stop all sounds, checked on every side the sound of pipe, lute and song, and the Magadha women's cry of 'All hail!' (370) When the servants had quickly brought water, Kadambari herself washed Mahaçveta's feet, and, drying them with her robe, sat on the couch again; and Madalekha, a friend worthy of Kadambari, dear as her own life and the home of all her confidence, insisted on washing Candrapida's feet, unwilling though he were. Mahaçveta meanwhile asked Kadambari how she was, and lovingly touched with her hand the corner of her friend's eyes, which shone with the reflected light of her earrings; she lifted the flowers in Kadambari's ear, all covered with bees, and softly stroked the coils of her hair, roughened by the wind of the cowries. And Kadambari, ashamed, from love to her friend, of her own well-being, as though feeling that in still dwelling at home she had committed a crime, said with an effort that all was well with her. Then, though filled with grief and intent on gazing at Mahaçveta's face, yet her eye, with its pupil dark and quivering as it looked out sideways, was, under the influence of love, with bow fully bent, irresistibly drawn by Candrapida's face, and she could not turn it away. At that same moment she felt jealousy [298] of his being pictured on the cheek of her friend standing near--the pain of absence as his reflection faded away on her own breast, pierced by a thrill--the anger of a rival wife as the image of the statues fell on him--the sorrow of despair as he closed his eyes, and blindness as his image was veiled by tears of joy.

(371) '"At the end of a moment Mahaçveta 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 Mahaçveta'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-flashing 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 Mahaçveta.

(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 Mahaçveta, 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 pass 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 Mahaçveta: '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 Mahaçveta, 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 Mahaçveta 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 amusement 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?' Nobility 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 Mahaçveta 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 Mahaçveta, 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 god? I had made a promise in Mahaçveta'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 amusements--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 Mahaçveta'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 passed. At last a portress announced Mahaçveta's return, and she went down, and albeit unwilling, yet to please Mahaçveta 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 worshipped 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, shining 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 peacocks. 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, space 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?'