Part 19

'"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 Vaiçampayana 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 grass 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 vassals by the fragrance of her flowery couch, all murmuring; her upper garment was in confusion, and she sought to place on her bosom the shining 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 Mahaçveta, 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 Prajapati 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 shines 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 Mahaçveta, 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 flashing rays of his crest jewels. Our subjects are well. Why has so long a time passed 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 Çukanasa, he read words of like import. Vaiçampayana, 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 gods, 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 Mahaçveta. 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 worshipping the lotus-feet of the princess. Salute with bent head and sunwise turn the feet of Mahaçveta. 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 Vaiçampayana 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 goddess, 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 passionate 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 grass 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 Mahaçveta'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 Çesha necklace a kindness beyond that for his kin. (428) He thought he saw fortunate Patralekha standing behind him. Thus he passed 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 Çukanasa. Having duly stayed there some time, he told him that Vaiçampayana 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 Mahaçveta 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, wishing 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 peacock she gave, like a bribe, a piece of betel broken by her teeth; and gazing often on every side lest a wood-goddess 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 onrushing 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 brimming 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, flashing 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, Mahaçveta, 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 noble 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.