Bubbles of the Foam

by F. W. Bain

And he paused for a moment, as if reflecting on his coming words. But he murmured to himself: I feel that she is hesitating, and trembling in the balance; resembling a fruit that fears to fall, yet knows that its very nature dooms it to be eaten, and is half inclined on that account to drop of its own accord. And now, with a little shaking, she will drop into my hand: since like a very woman, she cannot say either yes or no, wishing to be forced along the path which all the while she longs, yet is terribly afraid, to tread. And now then will I bait the hook with flattery, and we shall see whether this golden fish will not swallow it as greedily as all her silver sisters, resembling as they do delicate and fragile foolish ware that sells itself in a market created by its own vanity, where false coin passes easily without detection, and is even more potent and valuable than true. And yet in her case, flattery is very easy, for the grossest is only the simple truth.

And presently he said, in a very low voice: Aranyání, tell me: am I beautiful? And she said, after a while, with her face hidden in his breast: Why ask me to repeat what I have told thee in every way a thousand times already? Then he said: And does it not occur to thee, that thou givest me what I give thee? And so we are a pair, for if my beauty is an idol to thee, what else is thine to me? But thou, all ignorant of thy own extraordinary charm, art incredulous, not understanding that I also am a devotee to the spell of thy dreamy eyes, and the aromatic fragrance of thy hair, and the clinging prison of thy soft round arms, and the taste of thy delicious lips, whose kisses cool, like snowflakes, by their leaf-like half involuntary fall, the burning caused by the touch of thy trembling breast, when it beats on my heart like the surge of the sea. And should we separate, that were made for one another like Maheshwara and the Daughter of the Snow? Nay, we will rather grow together, thou, like the creeper, clinging ever to me, just as thou art doing now, indistinguishable from the tree which is myself. And thou shrinkest from the darkness, but I will be thy darkness and thy night, O thou slender digit of the moon. What wouldst thou do without thy night, O moon? Or didst thou say, thyself, thou wert a flower? Well, thou shalt be my blue lotus, and I will be thy pool: looking into which, thou shalt see thy own reflection, and rejoice. Or, if thou wilt, I will play the river, and thou shalt be the silver swan that floats upon its breast. What! wilt thou take from the river all its beauty, by refusing to float upon the water that only longs to be adorned by so beautiful a burden? Or better still, thou shalt be my mango blossom, and I, thy mad black bee, living only to plunder my shy sweet blossom of its intoxicating wine; aye, without thee, I should indeed resemble a golden cup, without the wine that gives it all its use and worth. Thou art the salt, of me the ocean, and the pearl within my shell: and with thee, I shall be a very Wishnu, with thee, for my Fortune and my Shrí. And like a word, I should be utterly meaningless without thee, who art my meaning and my soul. And wouldst thou separate, and sever me from thee? Nay, nay, O cousin, we will live together, not like accidental waifs that haply meet to part again upon the waves of time, but rather like two happy children playing King and Queen, drifting in a golden boat along the crystal stream of life, never so much as touching on a shoal, but gliding on, sometimes plying silver oars, and sometimes spreading a purple sail to catch the sandal-scented breeze that blows from Malaya loaded with the lazy odour of the South, letting all the hours slip past us unperceived, till we float away together into the open sea of Death.

VI

And as he murmured, holding Aranyání in arms that added emphasis by the affection of their pressure to the persuasion of his voice, all at once she tore herself away from him abruptly, and went and stood, at a little distance, by herself, silent, and looking out upon the sand. And Atirupa stood still, watching her with curious, half passionate, half meditative eyes. And he said within himself: She is standing on the very edge of the precipice, into which she is just about to fall, irresolute, and dizzy, and distracted by an arbitration which she dares not settle either way, not so much out of desire to go, or stay, but rather because she is equally unable and unwilling, either to stay, or go: and in the agony of her beautiful perplexity, she is craving to be delivered from the choice, by having the matter settled for her: and now, the weight even of a hair would turn the scale. And he drew near slowly, and said, after a while: Hast thou forgotten, O cousin, that there will be no farewell to say to thy surroundings, though thou shouldst leave them now? For there is absolutely nothing to prevent thee from returning to visit them, as often as thou wilt. But still she answered nothing, remaining with her back turned towards him, exactly as before.

And once again he said: Aranyání, dost thou hear me? I do not ask thee to say goodbye for ever to the wood.

And he waited for a while, and at last, as she never either moved or spoke, he said again: Since, then, thou art absolutely determined, and thy mind is made up to let me go away alone: it is well. So, now, there is nothing left, but for me to go. And I must absolutely depart, whether I will or no. For my kingdom requires me, and my retinue is waiting at the bottom of the hill, to bring me over the sand. And sometimes in the wood thou wilt remember me, and it may be, offer water to the ghost of our dead happiness, and the love that might have been, for in this wood I cannot live, and if thou wilt not come away, it is useless to return. So bid me but farewell, and I will go, and thou shalt never see me more.

And then she turned. And she put out her hand towards him, as if with entreaty, and made a single step, and all at once she swayed, and would have fallen, but that he caught her in his arms. And she said, in a voice so low as scarcely to be heard: Take me, if thou must, and quickly, for in another moment, I think that my heart will break in two.

And then, she sank down, bereft of her reason, and lay in his arms in a swoon.

And Atirupa stood for a moment, looking down upon her, as he held her in his arms. And he said to himself, as if half in irresolution: So, then, it is over, and I have conquered, and she has yielded, and is mine. And yet, somehow or other, I feel, in this instance, a touch of something that resembles pity, and there is as it were a sting, resembling that of a bee, mixed with my honey, which I never felt before. For after all, she is my own relation. And what will she do, when she finds out her mistake? And yet, after all, the mischief is done, and now it is too late. For as it seems, she will break her heart, in a little while, whether she goes away with me, or not.

And then, he lifted her in his arms, and went away quickly through the trees, down the hill.