IX
So then, Gangádhara did very carefully just as he was told. And everything came about exactly as Smaradása had predicted. For the soul of Arunodaya almost leaped out of his body with delight, in anticipation of the satisfaction of his curiosity, by making trial of the fruit; while the lips of Makarandiká grew whiter, and shut closer, at the sight of it, as if it contained her rival in its core.
And that very night, Arunodaya went up upon his palace roof, according to his custom, to sleep. And he took with him the fruit, which he carried in his hand, not being willing to let it out of sight for a moment, for fear that Makarandiká might steal it, in order to thwart his expectation, and prevent him from having as it were an assignation with any other woman, even in a dream. And as it happened, that night a strong wind was blowing from the east, and the waves of the sea broke against the rocks of the palace foot, as if they were endeavouring to move it from its place.
And while Arunodaya threw himself upon his bed, Makarandiká went and sat, a little way away, in her swing, that rocked and swayed to and fro in the wind, looking out across the sea, with gloom in her eyes: and casting, every now and then, glances at him as he lay, out of the corner of her eye, that seemed as it were to say to him: Beware! And like her body, her soul was tossed to and fro in the swing of unutterable longing and despair. And she said to herself: Even in my presence, which he absolutely disregards, he is preparing for a meeting in his dreams with this wife of his former birth. And at the thought, she frowned, and turned paler, clutching tighter unawares the chains of her swing, and setting her teeth hard, and casting at Arunodaya, lying in his couch, as it were daggers, in the form of dark menace from eyes that were filled with misery and pain. And the moon in the first quarter of its wane seemed as it were to say to her: See, thy power is waning, exactly like my own.
And in the meanwhile, Arunodaya took his fruit and ate it, and lay down, with a soul so much on tiptoe with desire and agitation that sleep seemed to fly from him as if on purpose, out of sympathy with her. And for a long while he tossed to and fro upon his bed, listening to the roar of the waves and the wind. And so as he lay, little by little he grew quiet, and sleep stole back to him silently and took him unaware. And his soul flew suddenly into the world of dreams, leaving Makarandiká alone in the darkness, awake in her swing.