A Mine of Faults

by F. W. Bain

And as he watched her, tears of compassion for her and her condition arose, as if against his will, in Yogeshwara's soul: for he had a daughter of his own. And he gazed at her distracted, and seizing his right ear with his hand, he began to pull it, utterly confounded and perplexed as to what was to be done. And he said within himself: Surely some assistance should be rendered to this unhappy maiden, no matter what blame she has incurred by her incomprehensible and utterly disastrous behaviour. For she seems about to abandon the body, in grief about something or other, as great as I have ever witnessed in my life. And yet if I go to her assistance, it will come out that I was a party to their interview, and that will never do. And yet I cannot stay here and watch her, as it were, dying before my eyes, in the very agony of grief.

XX

And then, once again he stopped short, and so great was his amazement that he came within a very little of betraying himself by a loud exclamation. For as he looked, lo! the King appeared again, standing in the door, having returned unheard with silent steps. And as he stood, he looked towards the King's daughter, all unaware of his return. And when he saw that she was sobbing, like a very incarnation of despair, all at once his face was lit up as it were by the ecstasy of joy. And he went noiselessly, on tiptoe, towards her, and when he reached her, he stood for a moment looking down at her, with compassion that was mingled with unutterable affection. And then, he stooped down, and touched her on the shoulder, very gently, with his hand.

And at his touch, she started to her feet, and stood, with downcast eyes, from which great tears rolled, chasing one another, along her cheeks, and a bosom that heaved like the ocean after a storm. And the colour came and went upon her face, like the shadows of the clouds driven furiously over the hillsides by a strong wind.

And the King leaned towards her, and said softly: See, it is fated, that I cannot leave thy arbour, however often I may try. And now, thou art mistaken. For it was my old opinions of women that are wrong, and my new ones that are right. And now, dear Guru, wilt thou choose me for thy husband, or not?

And as he stretched his hands towards her, she glanced at him, and all at once, she lost control over herself, and abandoned, as it were, the dominion of her soul to him. And she fell into his arms, and remained, sobbing on his breast, and quivering with emotion, and joy, and shame, while the whole world swam in mist before the eyes of the King, trembling like a leaf in the whirlwind of passion roused by her agitation and her surrender and her touch. And after a while, he said: Listen, for I wish to ask thee a question, and tell thee why it was that I returned. For it was not only thy beauty that drew me back again, though that alone would have made it utterly impossible for me to go away: notwithstanding Yogeshwara, whom, at the thought of his deception, I was ready to strangle with my own hands. But all at once, as I went, I stopped. And I said: Ha! why did she betray herself, and tell me, when she had completely gained her object, what without her, I myself should never have discovered? Could it be, because her heart smote her, to receive the husband of her choice?

And then, with a cry, she gripped him by the arm. And she sobbed aloud as she exclaimed: Ah! thou hast guessed it, thou hast guessed. Ah! till I knew thee, to deceive thee seemed to be a little thing. And fool! I laid a snare for thee, never dreaming of danger to myself, nor thinking that I should be the first myself to fall into the snare, laid for me by the Deity in thy dear form. And as I looked at thee, and listened to thee pleading, all ignorant of my deception, all at once I became a thing of horror to myself, and saw myself a traitor, to thee. Ah! no, not to thee. Ah! to thee, to thee, ah! to thee I could not lie.

XXI

So those two lovers stood together in that arbour on the edge of the hill, not knowing where they were, and all ignorant of time. And the King's daughter sobbed, until she laughed, and laughed until she sobbed, till at length the King took her in his arms, and seating himself in his old seat, set her on his lap, and held her like a child, rocking her to and fro, and wishing that her agitation might never have an end, so only that he might continue rocking her for ever on his knee.

And at last, becoming once more mistress of herself, she said to him in a whisper: Thou didst well to return, without losing any time. For hadst thou remained absent but a very little longer, I would have thrown myself to the bottom of the cliff, and then they would have found there not, as thou saidst, thy bones, but mine. But as it is, I am alive, to be already a burden to thee, and as yet, the yuga has only just begun. And he said: O burden, I am not in any hurry to set thee down. And I will carry my flower, thou shalt find, to the yuga's very furthest end.