XIII
And I stood, looking after him, with a startled heart, and then I went home slowly, saying to myself: How in the world did he guess my secret, and what did he mean? Was there a warning in his words? And what is all this about the Queen? Did he ever see her in his life? for if he had, he would long ago have discovered that all his rules have exceptions, of which Táráwalí is one: being not only the very gem beyond comparison that he spoke of with contempt, but a woman of women who very certainly never would despise any one at all, least of all the man who thought her exactly what she is, a star, far, far above his own muddy earth: a thing made of some rare celestial matter, differing altogether from anything to be found here below, fetched by the Creator when he meant to make her from some abysmal intermundane mine, where ocean foam and lunar ooze and sandal-wood and camphor lie jumbled up together with the essence of all curves and smiles and whispers and soft kisses and sweet glances and irresolution and long hair. And the image of the Queen rose up before me, laughing as it were in scorn at Haridása, and utterly obliterating everything he said. And I said to myself in ecstasy: Sunset will be here, very soon. And I reached my house, and looked, and lo! there was sitting at the door a Rajpoot, covered with the desert's dust, and holding by the rein a horse that hung its head, trembling still, and white with foam.
And as I came towards him, he stood up, and made obeisance. And he said: Maháráj, thou art come at last, and it was time. And I said: What is the matter? Then he said: Thy mother sent me, and I have ridden night and day. The King thy father is dying, and every moment he may be dead. And now, if thou carest, either for thy father, or thy mother, or thy throne, there is only one chance for thee, to fly to them as fast as any horse can take thee, without the delay of a single moment. So my message is delivered, and the Maháráj is judge.
And again he made obeisance, and went away on foot, leading his horse behind. And I stood, looking after him in a stupor, like one struck by a bolt from heaven, in the form of his appalling news. And I said to myself: Go I must, or my mother is ousted, and the ráj lost. And yet if I go, the sun will set in the Queen's garden, and I shall not be there.
And I pushed my door wide open, and went in, and sat down, with my face buried in my hands. And my own words sang in my head, over and over again: Go I must, or the ráj is lost, and my mother ousted. And the sun will set in the Queen's garden, and I shall not be there.
And I heard a laugh beside me, and I looked up. Lo! there was Chaturiká, standing in the open door! And she looked at me with laughing eyes, and she said: Ha! as it seems, I am just in time to save thy life: for thou art apparently all but dead. And, beyond a doubt, the Queen is a cunning doctor, who understands her patient's case. For she sent me to thee, saying: Go to him, O Chaturiká, since without thee he will die: and help him, how thou canst, to live until the sun has set.
And I stood up, and seized my hair with both my hands. And I groaned aloud, and said: Alas! O Chaturiká, what is a man to do, when two suns set, in opposite directions? And instantly, all the laughter died out of her face. And she looked at me with dark eyes, and she said: Two suns! What dost thou mean? And I told her all, and she listened in silence, till I ended. And then she said, with a sigh of relief: Ah! is that all? And I exclaimed: All? is it not enough for thee? And she said: I was terrified, by thy talking of two suns. For I began to think the Queen had a rival in thy affection. And I laughed, in anger and derision, and I exclaimed: A rival! Thou little fool! I am sorely tempted to beat thee, for daring to think anything of the kind, even in a dream. What! a rival! to Táráwalí! Thou art stark mad. How could she possibly have a rival in the three worlds? But what am I to do? And she said: It is thy choice, not mine. Only when once a sun has set, who can tell, if it will ever rise again? And what am I to say to the Queen?
And as she stood, looking at me, for an answer, there rose into my recollection the image of Táráwalí, leaning towards me in the moonlight, and saying: To-morrow, at sunset, I will be thy dream. And suddenly I exclaimed: Go back to her, O Chaturiká, and tell her that my only sun is the sun that sets in a Queen's garden.
And then, to my astonishment, that singular Chaturiká suddenly threw herself into my arms, and kissed me without waiting to be asked. And seeing me look at her in perplexity, she burst out laughing, and she said with delight: Ah! ah! So then, after all, there is a difference, as it seems, between Chaturiká and Táráwalí. No doubt some kisses are far sweeter, but the sun must set, ere the lovely digit of the moon rises, and I must do what I can meanwhile, to help thee to keep alive. It was her own order. And moreover she will not be jealous, and will not scold me when I tell her all about it on my return. And I said: Nay, thou saucy little beauty, tell her with all my heart, and add, that her drug was efficacious, since sandal-wood and camphor turn everything that touches them into a little bit of fragrance exactly like their own. And take her hand, and kiss it, and say I send the kiss, like her message, by thy mouth, and here it is.
And I caught her in my arms, and kissed her as she struggled, not willing this time to be kissed at all, exactly on her laughing lips, and then she went away.