VI
And they all stood, when she had gone, gazing at one another in silence, as motionless as though they had been painted on the walls that stood behind them. And then they all exclaimed, as if with a single voice: What! is not one of us all fit for this fastidious beauty's taste? And instantly that ring of disappointed suitors broke up as they flew away, and vanished like a mist, for in their fury they would not even so much as wait to take leave of her father, counting it as it were a crime in him to be father of such a daughter, and to have lured them into shame.
And seeing them go, Mahídhara went himself to the apartments of his daughter. And he said to her in dudgeon: Out on thee! Makarandiká;[21] for here have all the Widyádharas become my bitter enemies by reason of this insult. Has thy reason left thee? Or where wilt thou find a husband, if not even one of all the kings of the Widyádharas can please thy foolish fancy? Dost thou not understand, that a daughter who is not married disgraces her father's house?
Then said Makarandiká: Dear father, I am far too ugly to be married. And Mahídhara laughed, and he said: What new caprice is this? Thou ugly! Why, if thou art too ugly, being far the most beautiful of all, what of thy sisters, whose beauty all united is not equal to thy own, and yet have they all chosen? And Makarandiká laughed, and she exclaimed: What! can it be? What! shall the most beautiful of all be content with others' leavings, and choose only out of what they have all rejected? As if the whole world were not full to the very brim of husbands! Shall my choice be the refuse? Moreover, I do not want a Widyádhara for a husband at all. And Mahídhara said, with amazement: And why not a Widyádhara? Then said Makarandiká: Widyádharas are fickle, and roaming about in the air, come across all sorts of other women and make love to them, deceiving their own wives. But I will marry only such a husband as never will deceive me.
Then said her father, smiling: But, O thou very jealous maiden, where wilt thou discover him? For did not even Indra himself play Sachi false? Or dost thou think that mortal men are always constant, when even gods are not? Choose, if thou wilt, a mortal for thy husband, only to discover that Widyádharas are not more treacherous than they are. Thy husband will deceive thee, as it may be, no matter what his birth.
And lo! as he looked at her, jesting, he saw her suddenly turn paler, and still paler, as if the very thought resembled poison in her ears. And she said in a low voice: Better never to be married at all, than marry a deceiver: better far for me, and better far for him. And her father exclaimed, in astonishment: What! O Makarandiká! thou hast not even got a husband as yet at all; yet here thou art already, jealous without a cause! What will it be, when thou art actually married? Truly I fear for thy unhappy husband, whoever he may be. And yet, be very careful. Bethink thee, O daughter, that if thou dost choose a mortal, it will be at the cost of thy condition. For any Widyádharí becoming the wife of a mortal man loses all her magic sciences, and is levelled with himself.
And Makarandiká said with scorn: Thy warning is unnecessary, and there is not any risk. For it will be long before I place myself in danger of any such description from a husband of any kind.