An Essence of the Dusk, 5th Edition

by F. W. Bain

[ XI. ]

And as Aja gazed at her, stunned and almost overcome by the pathos of her irresistible appeal, and as it were swept from his feet by the surge of her passion, suddenly she seized his left hand with her right, and stood, grasping it as if convulsively, with the other hand raised, and bending her head as if to listen. And he listened, and lo! there sounded in his ears a murmur resembling that of the sea, mixed with faint strains of music, and echoes of indistinguishable singing voices coming as it were from the ends of the earth. And a shudder ran through him, as she turned, and looked at him as if in ecstasy, with eyes that saw nothing, murmuring in an eager voice that chanted and charmed his ear like the rushing of a stream: Dost thou hear the voices, calling thee over to the other shore? For the sea is the sea of separation, and the other shore is our former birth. Far away over the setting sun hides the red land[1] of our old sweet love. And I can take thee back to it, out of this dim and dingy wood. Only I can carry thee back to the land beyond the sunset hill, where love is lying dead. Over the sea where monsters lurk, and great pearls grow in sunless deeps, I can carry thee back again to the land of long ago. Never a ship with a silken sail could rock thee over across the waves so well as I will waft thee there on the swell of this soft breast. Never a breeze from the sandal hill could ferry thee over a silent sea so gently as will I, by breathing into thy raptured ear tales of thy old forgotten past with fond and fragrant lips. What! art thou still oblivious of that old delicious birth? Dost thou never behold in dreams the paradise of our little hut, and slake again thy raging thirst in a long forbidden kiss? Does she never come back to thee, the Bráhmani girl with a face like mine, with lips that laughed and eyes that shone, and a mango flower in her hair? Say, dost thou never dream of her? And she shook his arm with frenzy, and exclaimed: Ha! wake from thy magic sleep, and tear away the curtain that hides me from thy blinded soul. I will, I will awake thee. I will not be forgotten. And all at once, she burst into a passion of tears. And she reeled, as though about to fall, and tottered, and threw herself, sobbing hard, against his breast.

And while she spoke, Aja stood, like one pushed to the very edge of a precipice, pale as death, and breathing hard, spellbound. And then at last, when she threw herself upon his breast, again a shudder ran through all his limbs. And as if her touch had shattered to pieces the last fragment of his resolution, he caught her around the waist with the one arm that was free. And with tears in his own eyes, he stammered, as if in the extremity of desperation, hardly knowing what he said: Alas! I have been harsh to thee. O lovely browed beauty, cease to weep. Why, O why, did I not meet thee sooner by only a single day?

[1] The Sanskrit dwípa has exactly the same connotation as our islands of the Blest, and like them it is placed in the setting sun.

[ XII. ]

And at that very moment, he heard behind him a deep sigh. And as he turned, wood, poppies, and all vanished from before his eyes. Once more he stood on the city wall; and there before him was the King's daughter. And she was standing in the doorway, through which he had come upon the wall, leaning against the open door, and paler than Love's own ashes, while her great dark eyes were frozen as it were to ice, and yet lit up by the triple fire of sorrow and reproach and fierce disdain. And she looked like the daughter of Janaka, when forsaken by the lord of the race of Raghu, and like the heavenly Urwashi, when abandoned by Pururawas, a very spirit of despair carved by the Creator into a stony female form, to break the heart of the three worlds. And as if the very sight of her had broken the spell that held him, reason and recollection suddenly returned to Aja, as it were at a single bound. And he woke, as if from a magic sleep, and on the instant, a sword ran as it were straight into his heart. And with a cry, he flung away his sobbing burden like a blade of grass, not caring where it fell: and ran towards the King's daughter. But she, when she saw him coming, shrieked, and started, and exclaimed: Away! Touch me not, save with the point of thy sharp true sword, to pierce me through the body as thy perfidy has my soul.

Then Aja tossed away his sword, with a shudder, over the edge of the wall. And he seized himself by the head with both hands, with a groan like the roar of a wounded lion. And he exclaimed: Ha! Better now it had been indeed, had I never emerged from the waste of sand. And he turned fiercely upon Natabhrúkutí, saying: This is thy doing, thou vile enchantress: and now I am indeed awake.

But even as he spoke, the words died away upon his lips; and he stood still, like a picture on a wall, for wonder at what he saw before him. For Natabhrúkutí was standing still, exactly where he left her, bolt upright, like a spear fixed in the earth. And her beauty was greater than ever, and yet such, that as he saw it, his heart stopped in his breast. For every vestige of the nectar of her love-emotion had left her, and in its place, the poison of immortal hate shone in her cold and evil eyes, which were fastened, as if with a mixture of pain and pleasure, with a glittering and fiendish stare, upon the King's daughter. And as he watched them, cold ran in Aja's veins. For her eyes shook, and changed colour, and a horrible smile played on her blue and twitching lips. And she looked thin, for her two arms hung down tight against her sides, and her fingers opened and shut, slowly, as if of their own accord.

And after a while, she spoke. And she turned to Aja, and said, in a voice that resembled a hiss: Fool! thou wouldst not take the blue flower I offered thee, though its fragrance could not have been matched by anything in the three worlds. Now, then, I will take another way. So as he watched her, she was gone: and he saw before him nothing but the empty city wall.

And as he looked again, not crediting the testimony of his own eyes, he heard a sharp cry from the King's daughter. And he turned, and saw Yashowatí sinking to the ground. And at that very moment Natabhrúkutí stood again before him. And she looked at him with strange eyes, and said slowly: Go now, and enjoy thy wife. But I must give thee just one kiss, before I go.