A Draught of the Blue, together with An Essence of the Dusk

by F. W. Bain

[[5]] A Ghandarwa, or heavenly musician, and the dancing master of the Apsarases. [Pronounce tum- to rhyme with room, rather short.]

III

And then, as the laughter surged again in Aja's soul, saying within himself: Out on this pitiable old scarecrow of a King, whose only thought is dancing! the King turned, and stood aside. And Aja looked, and instantly, the laughter died out of his heart, which ceased as it were to beat. And he murmured to himself: Ha! this is the most wonderful thing of all. King and women and desert and all vanished out of his mind, as if the sentiment that suddenly seized it filled it so completely as to leave room for nothing else. And he stood still gazing, feeling as though he were spinning round, though he was standing still as death. For there before him stood this enigmatical King's daughter. And like her father, she also seemed an incarnation of the soul of grief, not as in his case ignominious and an object of derision, but rather resembling a heavenly drug compounded of the camphor of the cold and midnight moon, that had put on a fragrant form of feminine and fairy beauty to drive the world to sheer distraction, half with love and half with woe. For like the silvery vision of the new-born streak of that Lord of Herbs, she was slender and pale and wan, formed as it seemed of some new strange essence of pure clear ice and new dropt snow, and she loomed on the soul of Aja out of the blackness of his trance like a large white drooping lily, just seen in the gloom of an inky night. And her hair and brow were the colour of a thunder-cloud in the month of Chaitra,[[1]] and like that cloud, the heavy sorrow hung in her great dark mournful eyes, drenching him as it were with a shower of dusky dreamy dewy beauty, and drawing him down bewitched and lost like the victim of a haunted pool into the snaky eddy of their silent unfathomable recess. And yet her deep red lips trembled, as it were on the very border of a smile, as if they were hinting against their will of a mine of laughter and subtle snares that they were not allowed to use. And she had risen up to come and meet him, yet was hanging back as if reluctant, and so she stood, all reflected in the polished floor, with her head thrown back to look at him, for she was very small, like one on the very point of imploring help, yet shrinking, as if too proud to ask it from a stranger, balanced as it were between reliance on her own pure and pleading beauty and doubtfulness of its reception. So she halted irresolute, with glorious throat that was hovering still over the swell of her lifted breasts, poised as it were on the very verge of tumultuous oscillation, like that of Rati, preparing with timidity to cast herself at the feet of the three-eyed God, to beg back the body of her burned-up husband in a passion of love-lorn tears.

And Aja stood before her, like the sea when the digit of the moon rises suddenly over its waves, stirred with a tumult of strange emotions, and yet lit by a heavenly ray, a mass of agitated darkness mixed with dancing, trembling light; all unaware that he was himself to the King's daughter exactly what she was to him, a weapon of bewilderment in the hands of the cunning god of the flowery bow, who shot him suddenly at her, like an arrow of intoxication, and pierced her through the very middle of the soft lotus of her heart.

So they two stood awhile in silence. And all at once, Aja spoke, not knowing that he spoke aloud. And he said, very slowly: How many husbands, then, have already had this lustrous beauty, who looks for all as pure and pale and undefiled as a new young delicate jasmine bud? And instantly, as if roused from sleep by his reproach, he saw the colour leap up into her cheek, and spread like dawn flushing over her burning throat and brow. And she drew a sudden breath, and her bosom heaved abruptly as if with a sob of shame. And at that moment, the voice of the King her father broke harshly into Aja's dream, saying: Alas! alas! Never a husband has had her yet, though she is now long past sixteen, and could even teach Tumburu dancing.

And then, as if the King's words had suddenly lifted a weight from his soul, Aja burst into a shout of laughter. And he tottered, as if to fall. And he caught at the old King's arm, and gripped it so that he almost screamed, exclaiming amid his laughter: Ha! King, I am also the son of a King: and now I will be thy son-in-law. And she shall have a husband at last, and teach him, if she pleases, dances that even Tumburu does not know. And with that, he fell into such a paroxysm of laughter, that weak as he was, he could not stand, but fell: and his laughing turned to sobbing. Then the King's daughter turned to her father, with an angry flush on her brow. And she said, with strong emotion: O father, wilt thou delay for ever to send for food and water? Dost thou not see that this King's son, great and powerful though he be, is weak, and it may be, perishing, before thy face, of hunger and thirst, having escaped by a miracle out of the desert to die by thy neglect?

And she clapped her hands, stamping her foot in indignation. Then the women ran, and took up Aja, and carried him away. And they bathed him, and tended him, and fed him till he was recovered: and after a while, they brought him back, into the presence of the King.

[[1]] April.