[[17]] (Pronounce yuga and kalpa as monosyllables, to rhyme with fugue and pulp.) A yuga is, as we should say, a geological Age: a kalpa, a whole series of such ages.
A Cordial Understanding
And the very next morning, King Mitra's capital went as it were wild with joy, with smiles in the form of red banners hung from every housetop, and laughter in the form of drums beaten in every street, and shouts of victory in every mouth: since all had heard that King Chand was going to marry the King's daughter, and so would the hereditary enemy become a friend.[[1]] And the marriage was celebrated with all its rites, with speed that did not however keep pace with King Chand's impatience, who almost lost his reason on account of the delay of the astrologers in fixing the auspicious day. And as soon as he had led his bride with trembling hand around the fire, he took her away to his own home.
And as he went away, Yogeshwara said to him, at the city gate: O King Chand, dost thou bear a grudge against the old minister that lured thee into a snare? And Chand laughed, and said: O Yogeshwara, I wish I had a minister like thee. And as to the grudge, I owe thee what I am anxious to repay. Come to my capital below, when thou hast leisure, and ask me for anything whatever of most value to thee in the three worlds, and it is thine. And Yogeshwara said instantly: I choose thy bride. And Chand laughed again, and said: It is well chosen: and now I see, that thy reputation for wisdom is well deserved. Nevertheless, thou wilt have to choose again, for thou hast asked for the only thing I will not give.
So then, as they went away, Yogeshwara said softly to himself: Now, were I only a young man, my fortune would be made. But as it is, I am old, and my work is done: and I have attained the fruit of my birth. And see! how the Deity, in this case, as frequently before, has brought about things contrary to all expectation, and such as no man could have believed even to be possible, by the very simplest means. For King Chand and his son have done nothing all their lives, but subdue the regions of the earth: whereas King Mitra has done absolutely nothing, except marry a wife and beget a daughter. And yet, aided by my policy, this daughter has, like a wishing-tree, dropped all Chand's gains into our lap, and so far from losing anything, we have gained all. So much more powerful has proved this slender digit of the moon than all the fury of the sun. And now, then, I will put off the burden of the State, and spend the days that still remain to me in accumulating merit, by penance and austerities.
And he handed over everything to his son, and becoming a pilgrim, went to Wáránasi. And there he took up his station on the margin of the holy stream, and sat there, motionless and speechless, till he died. And they made a pyre and burned him on the Ghat: and his soul entered another body, while the ashes of the old one floated down the river, and were lost at last in the waters of the sea.
And then, Maheshwara stopped.
And after a while, the Daughter of the Mountain said softly: O Moony-Crested, thy story, after all, proves absolutely nothing. For beyond a doubt, Chand would have loved his beautiful and crafty mountain-bride every whit as much, had she never committed any fault at all.
Then said the God: O Daughter of the Snow, thou art altogether mistaken. For the fact that he had, as it were, to forgive her for a fault, in the very crisis and ecstasy of his passion, increased it not merely a hundred, but a thousand-fold, and enriched it with a sweetness which otherwise it could never have possessed. And so it is in every other case: for therein lies the flattery of sex.[[2]] And each sex loves the other better, if it love at all, for having something to forgive. For nothing augments affection so much as the forgiveness of its object. And the tests of love are only two, the power of recollection, and the capacity to forgive. For false love forgets at once, and cannot forgive at all. But love that is really love forgives for ever, and never forgets.