Hydaspes could no longer doubt, and he stood for some time motionless, between wonder and pleasure. But Sisimithres added, "One thing is still necessary to complete the proof; for recollect the succession to the kingdom, and the truth itself is now in question. Bare your arm, my child; there was a black mark upon it, a little above the elbow. There is nothing unseemly in doing this, in order to establish the evidence of your birth and family." Chariclea obeyed, and uncovered her left arm, when there appeared, as it were, an ebon ring, staining the ivory[10] of her arm.
But Persina could now no longer contain herself—she leapt from her throne, burst into tears, rushed into her daughter's embrace, and could express her transports only by an inarticulate murmur. For excess of joy will sometimes beget grief. They had nearly fainted and fallen on the ground.
Hydaspes felt for his consort, affected as she was, and a kindred emotion was gaining possession of himself; yet he gazed upon the spectacle with eyes as unmoved[11] as though they were of iron, struggling against his tears, his mind contending between fatherly feeling and manly fortitude, and tossed to and fro as by opposing tides. At last he was overpowered by all conquering nature; he not only believed himself to be a father, but was sensible of a father's feelings. Raising Persina, he was seen to embrace his daughter, pouring over her the paternal libation of his tears.
He was not, however, driven from that propriety which the circumstances demanded. Recollecting himself a little, and observing the multitude equally affected, shedding tears of pleasure and compassion at the wonderful events which had taken place, and not heeding the voices of the heralds, who were enjoining silence, he waved his hand, and stilling the tumult, thus addressed them:—"You see me, by the favour of the gods, and beyond all my expectations, entitled at length to the name of a father. This maiden is shewn to be my daughter by proofs which are infallible: but[12] my love for you, and for my country, is so great, that disregarding the continuance of my race, and the succession to my throne, and the new and dear appellation which I have just acquired, I am ready to sacrifice her to the gods for your advantage. I see you weep; I see you moved by the feelings of humanity; you pity the age of this maiden, immature for death; you pity my vainly cherished hope of a successor, yet even against your wills, I must obey the customs of my country, and prefer the public weal to any private feelings of my own. Whether it be the will of the gods just to shew me a daughter, and then take her away again (shewing her to me at her birth, taking her away now that she is found),[13] I leave you to judge: I am unable to determine. As little can I decide whether they will permit her to be sacrificed, when, after driving her from her native land to the extremest ends of the earth, they have, as by a miracle, brought her back again a captive; but if it be expedient that I sacrifice her whom I slew not as an enemy, nor injured as a prisoner, at the instant when she is recognized to be my daughter I will not hesitate, nor yield to affections which might be pardonable in any other father. I will not falter nor implore your compassion to acquit me of obedience to the law, out of regard to the feelings of nature and affection, nor even suggest that it is possible the deity may be appeased and satisfied by another victim; but as I see you sympathize with me, and feel my misfortunes as your own, even so much more does it become me to prefer your good to every other consideration, little regarding this sore grief, little regarding the distress of my poor Queen, made a mother and at the same moment rendered childless. Dry then your tears, repress your ineffectual grief for ever, and prepare for this necessary sacrifice: and, thou, my daughter! (now first and now last do I address thee by this longed-for name,) beauty is to no purpose, and in vain discovered to thy parents! thou who hast found thy native land more cruel than any foreign region! who hast found a strange land thy preserver, but wilt find thy native country thy destroyer! do not thou break my heart, by mournful tears; if ever thou hast shewed a high and royal spirit, shew it now. Follow thy father, who is unable to adorn thee as a bride; who leads thee to no nuptial chamber; but who decks thee for a sacrifice; who kindles, not torch of marriage, but the altar torch, and now offers as a victim this thine unrivalled loveliness. Do you too, Ο ye gods! be propitious, even if anything unbecoming or disrespectful has escaped me, overcome as I am, by grief, at calling this maiden daughter, and at the same time being her destroyer!" So saying, he made a show of leading Chariclea to the pyre, with palpitating heart, and deprecating the success of the speech, which he had made in order to steal away the people's wills.
The whole multitude was strongly excited by these words—they would not suffer her to be led a step towards the altar; but loudly and with one voice cried out—-"Save the maiden! Preserve the royal blood! Deliver her whom the gods evidently protect! We are satisfied; the custom has been sufficiently complied with. We acknowledge thee our king: do thou acknowledge thyself a father; may the gods pardon the seeming disobedience; we shall be much more disobedient by thwarting their will; let no one slay her who has been preserved by them. Thou who art the father of thy country, be also the father of thy family!" These, and a thousand such like exclamations, were heard from every side. At length they prepared to prevent by force the sacrifice of Chariclea, and demanded steadily that the other victims alone should be offered to the gods.
Gladly and readily did Hydaspes suffer himself to be persuaded, and to submit to this seeming violence: he heard with pleasure the cries and congratulations of the assembly, and allowed them the indulgence of their wills, waiting till the tumult should spontaneously subside.
Finding himself near Chariclea, he said:—"My dear daughter (for the tokens you have produced, the wise Sisimithres, and the benevolence of the gods declare you to be such), who is this stranger who was taken with you, and is now led out to be sacrificed? How came you to call him your brother, when you were first brought into my presence at Syene? He is not likely to be found my son, for Persina had only one child, yourself."
Chariclea, casting her eyes on the ground, blushed, and said:—"He is not, I confess, my brother: necessity extorted that fiction from me. Who he is, he will better explain than I can."
Hydaspes not readily comprehending what she meant, replied:—"Forgive me, my child, if I have asked a question concerning this young man which it seems to hurt your maiden modesty to answer. Go into the tent to your mother, cause her more rejoicing now, than you caused her pain when she gave you birth; add to her present enjoyment, by relating every particular about yourself. Meanwhile, we will proceed with the sacrifice, selecting, if possible, a victim worthy to be offered with this youth instead of you."
Chariclea was nearly shrieking at mention of sacrificing the young man; hardly could she for ultimate advantage, check her frenzied feelings, so as to wind her way covertly towards the end she had in view. "Sire," said she, "perhaps there needs not to seek out another maiden, since the people remitted in my person the sacrifice of any female victim? But if they insist that a pair of either sex should be sacrified, see if it be not necessary for you to find out another youth, as well as another maiden; or, if that be not done, whether I must not still be offered."