CHAP. III.—THE BREAKING OF THE SPELL.
When the day dawned, it found the púsári still in the temple offering prayers and supplications to the god for deliverance from the spell he was under. As soon as it was sufficiently light for him to see his way, he left the temple and went down into the village. A hope had risen in his breast that his prayers may have been answered, and he was anxious to ascertain whether he was still invisible. The hope was soon dispelled. As he passed the door of a hut, an old man came out yawning and stretching his arms, and though the púsári stood right before him, took no notice of him. Filled with despair, the púsári went to his own house and sat in the porch, a prey to the gloomiest, most miserable thoughts. He occupied himself in watching Vallee. The overwhelming grief and agitation of the preceding day had passed off, leaving her listless, unhappy, and restless. She was trying to attend to her household duties; but her thoughts were elsewhere, for she sighed frequently and her eyes filled with tears very often. Every now and then, she went to the door and glanced out. On one such occasion she uttered an exclamation of surprise. On looking out, the púsári saw several men and women whom he recognised as some of his relatives, who lived in a village at some distance, coming towards him. On entering the house, one or two of the new-comers saluted Vallee curtly and coldly, but the rest took no notice of her. Abashed and pained by their conduct, Vallee retired to a corner and waited to see what they had come for. They made themselves quite at home at once. It was soon evident they had heard of the púsári’s disappearance, and were come to see about his property, being persuaded he would never come back. After a while, they began to examine the house and to make a sort of rough inventory of what it contained.
‘What are you doing, uncle?’ asked Vallee of one of them, a thin, ferrety-faced man, who was her father’s brother.
The man made no reply. Presently, he caught sight of the púsári’s strong-box in a corner of the hut, and turning to her, abruptly demanded the key.
‘My father keeps it,’ she replied.
‘Do not name your father to us!’ said her uncle sharply. ‘We have cast him off; we disown him!’
‘But not his property, it appears,’ retorted Vallee with spirit. ‘And I tell you, Sinnan Ummiyán, it will not be well for you when my father comes home and hears what you have said of him!’
‘Dare you mock me, daughter of a murderer!’ exclaimed her uncle, as he gave her a sharp box on the ear.
Vallee did not cry out or burst into tears, but drawing herself up, walked silently and proudly out of the house and disappeared into the jungle.
Great was the disgust of the púsári at the conduct of his rapacious and selfish relatives, and his indignation at their treatment of his daughter. Muttering wrathfully to himself that he would make them regret it, if he ever regained his human form, he got up and went out after Vallee. As he entered the jungle at the spot where he had seen her disappear, he heard a voice that he instantly recognised—it was that of Valan Elúvan. Vallee had just met her lover.
‘What is the matter, sweet one?’ he heard Valan say. ‘Are you crying for your father?’
‘Aiyo, aiyo!’ wailed the girl. ‘I shall never see him again!’
‘Do not give way to such thoughts, little one,’ replied Valan. ‘He will certainly return. He has probably gone to some distant village on sudden and important business.’
‘O Valan,’ exclaimed Vallee, ‘then you don’t think—you do not believe that he—killed the headman?’
‘No; I do not, Púliya knows,’ returned her lover gravely. ‘’Twas some stranger, no doubt, that did the rascally deed. Your father will doubtless return soon and prove his innocence.—Were those some of your people who came to your house just now?’ he added.
Vallee explained who they were, and told him of her uncle’s treatment of her.
‘Never mind, child,’ he said soothingly, when she had finished speaking. ‘Should anything have happened to your father, and he not return, I will take you to my house as my wife; and we will go and live in some distant village where nothing is known about either of us, and no one can say malicious things of us.—What say you, sweet one?’
Vallee made no reply and no protest when he tenderly embraced her. They continued to talk together for some minutes. When they separated, the púsári followed Valan home, as he wished to see what his enemy was doing. As they entered the house, the púsári saw Iyan hastily hide some money he had been fingering, in his waist-cloth. Valan, too, saw his brother’s action; he did not say anything, however, till he had deposited his jungle-knife in a corner; then, without looking round, he said quietly: ‘Elder brother, where did you get that money?’
‘What money?’ blustered Iyan.
‘That which you have in your waist-cloth.’
‘I have had a debt repaid,’ growled Iyan after a short pause.
‘What debt?’ persisted Valan. ‘I did not know any one owed you anything.’
Iyan grunted angrily, but made no answer.
‘Where were you the day before yesterday, when the múdliya was murdered?’ continued Valan in a stern, grave tone and looking keenly at his brother.—‘And why,’ he continued, when he received no answer, ‘did you change your cloth when you came home that night, and wash the one you had been wearing? And why, too, did you——?’
‘Mind your own business!’ interrupted Iyan fiercely, as he got up and walked out. ‘You had better not spy on me, Valan Elúvan, or I will make you repent it!’
For some minutes after his brother had gone, Valan sat looking thoughtfully out of the door, evidently turning something over in his mind; then he got up and carefully searched the hut, examining with great care a cloth he found in a corner. He appeared not to be satisfied with what he saw, for he shook his head, and muttered two or three times to himself in a tone of sorrow and misgiving.
The whole of that day the púsári wandered restlessly about, spending most of the time, however, in and about his own house. By noon, his relatives had quite settled down in his house. It was clear they had no expectation of his ever returning, and had, therefore, constituted themselves his heirs. They did not treat Vallee with cruelty or harshness, but simply ignored her, or treated her as if she was dependent on them. Early in the afternoon, the young headman whom the púsári had seen at Mánkúlam the previous day, came to the village armed with a warrant. He was accompanied by several men, who searched his house carefully, but of course found nothing to incriminate him. They seized, however, the púsári’s gun and two or three jungle-knives that were in the house. Vallee’s distress and indignation at the action of the headman and his satellites was great; but she restrained herself, and made no protest or remark of any kind. The púsári learned from the conversation of these unwelcome visitors that men had been sent to all the neighbouring villages in search of him.
Night at length came on. The púsári hung about the village till every one had retired to rest. Suddenly the idea occurred to him to go in search of the pisási village in the haunted jungle. He started off at once, and before long found himself in a part of the jungle which he knew could not be very far from the scene of his dreadful night’s adventure. But though he wandered about all night and climbed two or three trees, in the hope of seeing the glare of the magic fires, he found nothing. Though he knew himself to be invisible, and therefore perfectly safe, he could not overcome the sensation of fear when he heard the fierce cries of wild beasts in the dark, lonely forest. He listened anxiously to the crashing and trumpeting of a herd of elephants in the jungle near him, and to the grating roar of a leopard seeking its prey. He fairly fled when he heard the whimpering of a couple of bears coming along the path towards him. When the morning broke, he returned to the village.
Several days passed, and the púsári remained invisible to mortal eyes. He suffered neither from hunger nor thirst nor fatigue, and required no sleep. Aimlessly and ceaselessly, he wandered about, sunk in the lowest depths of misery and despair. His great wish was to find the pisási village again, as he hoped that, in some way, the spell might then be removed from him. Night after night he entered the forest and wandered about till daybreak with eyes and ears open for any sign of the presence of pisásis; but though, before long, he knew every path and game-track, and almost every tree for miles round, he could not find again the haunted jungle. Sometimes, when tired, of his fruitless midnight wanderings, he would go to the rice-fields and sit by the blazing fires in the watch-huts and listen to the talk of the men and boys guarding the crops from the wild beasts. During the day, he haunted the village, entering all the huts unseen, and listening to the conversation of the villagers. Often he laughed to himself as he overheard secrets disclosed, weaknesses exposed, and designs laid bare, by men and women who thought themselves alone and safe from eavesdropping. The excitement about the murder of the headman soon died out, and it ceased to be the absorbing theme of conversation in the village. The púsári was supposed to have got safely off to some distant country with his booty.
During this time, the púsári watched his enemy unceasingly, his feelings of hatred and desire for vengeance growing deeper every day. Iyan was too cunning a villain to excite suspicion by showing his ill-gotten wealth, and he had not as yet profited much by his crime. Every evening, the púsári watched him go into the jungle and gloat over the money and jewels he had hidden in the hollow tree.
The púsári also kept an untiring, loving watch over his daughter. His brother and family had by this taken complete possession of his house and property. Vallee felt keenly their rapacious proceedings and unkind treatment of her, for her father more than once saw her, with tears of mortification and indignation in her eyes, rush out of the house into the jungle. But she very often met there one who dried her tears quickly and easily. Valan appeared to be always on the watch for her, and met her so often and so openly, that it soon became the talk of the village. Many sneered at him for a fool to think of marrying a portionless girl, as they now thought her, and also the daughter of a murderer. It soon became clear to the púsári that matters were coming to a crisis, and that Valan, stung into resentment and defiance by the remarks of the villagers, and pitying Vallee’s distress and unhappiness, would soon make her his wife and take her away. Valan’s generous and honourable conduct towards his daughter, and his expression of belief in his innocence, had completely won the púsári’s heart. He saw with approval and pleasure the relations between the two, and the thought that his daughter would soon be provided for, helped in considerable measure to reconcile him to his unhappy lot.
It happened one night that the púsári in one of his nocturnal rambles found himself at the river. It was now the height of the hot season, and the river was almost dry. Near where the path crossed the river was a small pool, the only water for miles around; to this the púsári went, and seated on the bank above, watched the wild animals coming to drink. It was a bright moonlight night, and the light reflected from the white sandy bed of the river made everything clearly visible. First came a pair of porcupines, which played about and chased each other, rattling their quills noisily, till the sudden appearance of an old she-bear with a cub on her back put them to flight. The bear drank and shuffled off; and then, with noiseless, stealthy step, a leopard glided out of the jungle into the moonlight. It looked about with its cruel, round gleaming eyes for a few moments, and then, lying down on its stomach, lapped its fill of water. Afterwards came a herd of wild-pigs, suspicious and wary, followed by a number of graceful spotted deer. As these were drinking, a slight noise in the distance caused them all to throw up their heads and listen in attitudes of alarm, and then to disappear in the jungle like shadows. A few moments later, with heavy but silent tread, a herd of elephants came along the river and drank at the pool, throwing copious showers of water over themselves with their trunks afterwards. The púsári had by this time quite lost all fear of wild animals, so he sat and watched them with pleasure and in perfect security.
Suddenly the púsári started to his feet, and with staring eyes and beating heart, gazed at something in the distance that had caught his eye. It was a brilliant glare of light over the trees. It was the pisási village at last! Without a moment’s hesitation, and breathless with anxiety, he hurried off in the direction of the light, going straight through the jungle towards it. Nearer and nearer appeared the light, till at last, with joy and exultation in his heart, he stepped out of the jungle into the well-remembered enchanted bazaar. But instead of the unearthly silence that had reigned in the bazaar the last time he was there, it was now filled with uproar. No particular sounds were distinguishable; but horrid shrieks and yells, awful execrations and hideous sounds of every sort, filled the air. Instead of taking no notice of him as before, the pisásis glared balefully at him, and seemed to snarl and show their teeth. The creatures in the shape of cattle and dogs followed him threateningly; and numbers of evil-looking birds and loathsome creatures with wings flapped and fluttered about his head. But undaunted and undeterred, the púsári walked steadily on, searching for the old she-pisási’s stall where he had drunk the magic potion. At last he found it. There sat the old hag, blinking and leering with the same hollow gourd of water before her. Seizing it, the púsári raised it to his lips, and in spite of the awful din that instantly arose, drained it to the bottom. As he put it down empty, he fell to the ground insensible.
It was daylight when he recovered and staggered to his feet. He remembered instantly what had happened during the night, and was filled with intense anxiety to ascertain whether his experiment had broken the spell that had bound him. He gazed at his arms and legs, and it seemed to him that they were real flesh and blood. He pinched them, and was sure he had felt the sensation. A thrill of joy passed through him, for he felt certain that he had recovered his human form. Taking his bearings by the sun, he made his way rapidly through the jungle to the river. As he descended the bank, he came upon a herd of deer, and it was with rapture that he saw them gaze in alarm at him and then dash hastily away. As he walked along the bed of the river, he noticed with intense satisfaction that he now had a shadow! There was no longer any doubt, and in the gladness of his heart the púsári began to sing at the top of his voice. As he turned into the path leading to Pandiyán, he caught sight of a man coming towards him; a moment later, he saw it was Valan Elúvan. On seeing the púsári, the young man stopped and looked at him with astonishment. After a moment’s hesitation, he came forward. ‘Why, iya, where have you been?’ he exclaimed.
‘I cannot tell you now, Valan,’ replied the púsári. ‘I am anxious to get to Pandiyán. Come with me, and I will tell you all.’
‘Then you are not afraid to go to the village, iya?’ said Valan hesitatingly.
‘No. Why should I?’
‘Have you not heard, then, of the murder of the múdliya and what is said about it?’
‘Yes, yes! I know all about it, and who the murderer is.’—Valan glanced quickly and searchingly at the púsári.—‘Ay, and I know more than that,’ continued the púsári, returning his glance with a smile. ‘I know how you have been making love to my daughter in my absence, and heard every word you said to her!’
Valan looked puzzled and confounded, but said nothing; and the two walked on together in silence, each buried in his own thoughts. Valan was wondering whether the púsári could possibly have been hidden in the jungle near his house all the time, and thus overheard his interviews with Vallee. He was also trying to account for his friendly manner towards him, so different from his former behaviour. He could not help feeling that the púsári was only feigning friendliness, and that he had some deep design in view, especially when he thought over his remark, that he knew who was the murderer of the headman; and who that was he felt only too sure—his own brother, and the other’s deadly enemy. Meanwhile, the púsári, filled with joyful thoughts and anticipations, strode along at such a rate that Valan could scarcely keep up with him.
At length they reached Pandiyán. A number of the villagers were standing about, and they no sooner saw who it was that accompanied Valan than the cry was raised; ‘The púsári has come back!’ and men, women, and children came running out of the houses, filled with astonishment and excitement. Vallee, however, was not to be seen, though both the men looked round for her. Without taking notice of anybody, the púsári walked through the village, past his own louse, to Iyan Elúvan’s hut. Valan followed, grave and silent. The púsári’s face was hard and stern as he entered the house. A glance round showed him there was no one there; it was, however, in great disorder, and something lying on the floor caught his eye. It was a torn fragment of cloth, and near it lay a small knife, its point stained with blood. The púsári picked them up and examined them; then, without a word, and followed by Valan and an intensely curious and excited but silent crowd of villagers, he left the hut, and entering the jungle at its back, made his way to the hollow tree where Iyan had hidden the valuables he had robbed the múdliya of. As the party neared the spot, a loud cry rose from the villagers, for lying at the foot of the tree was a dark object; it was the body of Iyan Elúvan!
Uttering an exclamation of horror, Valan knelt beside his brother and laid his hand upon his heart. The body was still warm, but Iyan was quite dead. His right hand was bound up with a strip of cloth. On this being unwound by Valan, a couple of small punctured wounds were discernible in the fleshy part near the thumb. Cries of, ‘It is a snake-bite!’ ‘He has been bitten by a snake!’ rose from the villagers crowding round, for they all recognised the marks. Meanwhile, the púsári, with the assistance of a stick, had drawn the bundle out of the hollow in the tree. With it came the freshly shed skin of a cobra, and it was at once seen how Iyan had come by his death. A cobra had taken up its abode in the hollow where Iyan had placed his ill-gotten treasure, and on his attempting to withdraw it, had bitten him in the hand. Iyan had then gone back to his house, and lanced and washed the wound and bound up his hand; but feeling the approach of death, had crawled back to the tree, but for what purpose was never known, and had there expired.
Opening the bundle, the púsári displayed to the astonished gaze of the villagers the money and jewels it contained. Every one of them knew at once that it was the stolen property of the murdered headman; but how it came to be hidden in the tree and what Iyan had to do with it, they were at a loss to guess. And now the púsári spoke, and in a few words told them all that had happened to him since they had last seen him. They listened eagerly and attentively, and believed every word. They frequently interrupted his story of what he had seen in the pisási village, with exclamations of horror and amazement, and when he finished, they one and all loudly expressed their satisfaction at his return, and belief in his innocence.
The whole party then returned to the village, carrying the body of Iyan, and taking with them the recovered treasure. The púsári went at once in search of his daughter, and soon found her in the thrashing-ground in the fields winnowing rice. The meeting was a very happy one. Vallee’s delight and joy knew no bounds. Could it have been possible to increase her happiness at her father’s return, the assurance he now gave her of regard for Valan Elúvan and his approval of him as her future husband, would have done so. The púsári’s next step was to go home accompanied by Vallee, and in a few cold, bitter words, to upbraid his relatives for their conduct and order them to leave his house at once. Ashamed and abashed, they went away without any attempt at explanation or apology. That afternoon, the young headman who had before inquired into the murder arrived at Pandiyán and at once instituted inquiries. The result was that the púsári’s innocence was established and the dead man’s guilt proved. The headman took charge of the stolen property.
‘Truly, iya,’ he said to the púsári as he departed, ‘you have much to be thankful for. Only by the favour of Púliya have you escaped from the wiles of the pisásis, and from the snare that Iyan Elúvan laid for you. ’Tis well, indeed, to be a favourite of the god. May you be happy and prosper!’
Before many days, Valan and Vallee were married, and went to live in an adjoining village. Relieved by the death of his enemy from constant worry and irritation, the púsári’s temper greatly improved. In course of time he became so much respected and so popular, that he was elected headman of the district. The secrets he learned when he wandered about the village invisible, proved to be of great value to him, as he was often able to turn his knowledge to account in his dealings with his fellow-villagers. He became in time a man of substance.
The púsári’s adventure was the subject of conversation through the whole country round for many weeks, and for a long time not a man, woman, or child dared enter the jungle after nightfall. But though in course of time the fear of the pisásis wore off, and on several occasions villagers were lost in the forest and wandered about there all night, no one ever found again the Haunted Jungle.