The Substance of a Dream

by F. W. Bain

And then, strange! as I lay, little by little my heart began to cool, and all its fury ebbed gradually away. For as I thought of Táráwalí, it seemed as it were to say to me: I cannot find room, on second thoughts, for any rage at all, since I belong absolutely to the Queen. And all my rage turned slowly into such unutterable longing that her image seemed to grow dim, seen through the mist of eyes that were suffused with tears, as recollection brought her back to me saying: This is how she looked when she saw thee first, and this again, is how she lay in the swing, and this again, when she stood up before thee, as a chetí, in the moonlit boat. And I exclaimed in desperation: Alas! O Táráwalí, must I then condemn thee, whether I will or no? For they all say the same of thee, and as it might seem, it must be true, and yet no matter, for I absolutely cannot either hate thee or believe them, when I think of thee as I saw thee myself. And my heart laughs in scorn at all the efforts of my reason, never wavering for an instant from thy side, like an incorruptible ally, that cannot be induced by any bribe whatever to abandon its allegiance. Aye! would she but open her arms to me again, I should forget everything else in the three worlds, to snatch her in my own. How is it possible to hate her? And beyond all doubt, that rascal I slew hit the mark, when he said that Narasinha cannot quarrel with her, being utterly unable to do without her, disarmed in all his attempts to oppose her by his own conviction that she is absolutely indispensable to his own life. For she may have deserved ten thousand deaths, and yet what does it matter, if for all that she is a thing that once lost or destroyed can never be replaced, as indeed she is, resembling the Kaustubha,[35] or the third eye of the Moony-crested god, of which in the three worlds there is only one. And so since he cannot do without her, she is beyond all reach, and invulnerable, doing with impunity exactly what she pleases, caring nothing whether he loves or hates her, and laughing at the very notion of being brought to book, secure in the magic circle of her own irresistible attraction, whose very power of destroying all others is her own protection, like a spell with a double edge, such that, as that rascal said, she cannot refrain from amusing herself by trying its effect on all.

And who could find it in his heart to blame her for delighting in the exercise of her own spell, like a child rejoicing in its toy, aye! even were he himself its victim, as its effect would be the same, no matter what she did, seeing that she must attract whether she will or no? Being what she is, she cannot help it: it is involuntary and beyond her control. And alas! I fell before it without a shadow of resistance, enslaved even before I saw it by her own dream, not even affording her the pleasure of watching her fascination gradually overcoming opposition, and asserting its power, and subduing me to her domination, against my will. And so I became a thing of no value to her at all, since in my case there was nothing to overcome. Ah! had I only been capable of seeming to be one on whom her charm would not work, then indeed, as Haridása says, I might have prevailed: and she might herself have fallen victim to the man who defied her fascination and laughed in her face, out of pique and irritation at her own impotence. And all the more, if what that rascal said have any truth, that she actually took a momentary fancy to me, strange as it seems. But alas! as he said, it is all too late.

And suddenly I started to my feet with a beating heart. And I exclaimed: Too late! But what if it were not too late, after all?

And as I stood, thinking of it, struck into sudden agitation by my own idea, hope glimmered in the darkness of my soul like the first faint streak of rosy dawn at the end of a black night. And the dream of the bare possibility of bringing back Táráwalí with all her old intoxicating sweetness almost took away my breath. And after a while, I said to myself: Yes, indeed, he actually said, that she took a fancy to me, even though it were only for a moment. And how could he have known it, if she had not herself confessed it to Chaturiká, from whom alone he could have heard it, since very certainly he never learned it from Táráwalí herself? Aye! and was not Chaturiká herself far sweeter at the beginning, just as if she knew I was no ordinary lover, but one with a little foothold in the Queen's heart? And if, then, I was ever there, why could I not return? And if her fancy has gone to sleep, could I not awake it? Can it be already so absolutely dead as never to revive, with not a single spark among the ashes to be refanned into a flame? How would it be, could I but manage to persuade her she was utterly mistaken, in supposing that I was only a miserable victim of her spell? How, if I could convince her that I valued all her fascinations at a straw? Would she not at least be tempted to try them all on me again, if only to test them and discover whether I was lying or in very truth proof against all the power of her charm? And if only she did, what then? For once she began, it would all depend on me, whether she ever stopped any more.

And all at once, I uttered a shout of hope and exultation and excitement, suddenly taking fire at the picture painted by my own craving imagination. And I exclaimed: Ha! who knows? And at least, I can try. And even if I fail, it cannot possibly be worse than it is already, drowned as I am in misery without her: whereas, if I could succeed! Ah! I would barter even emancipation for a single kiss! And O that my courage may not fail, turning coward at the very first sight of her again! For the struggle to appear indifferent, in such an ocean of rapture, will be terrible indeed, since even now, the very thought of it makes me tremble, being enough to make me fall weeping at her feet. And now the sun is setting, and it is time to go: and in a very little while, fate will decide, whether she and I are to die or live. For I cannot live without her, and unless she will allow me to live with her, she shall not live at all, either alone, or with anybody else. For she will kill me, by driving me away, and I will take her with me, if I am to die.

XXV

And then I went away with rapid steps, all through the city, till I reached the little ruined temple, that stood exactly opposite the door that Chaturiká had shown me the night before. And I hid myself behind the image of the Moony-crested god, and watching my opportunity that none should see me, all at once I crossed the street and tried the key in the door, almost shaking with anxiety, lest after all she had played me false, by giving me at haphazard some key that would not fit. But O joy! the key turned, and the door opened, and I went through. And very carefully I closed it again, and then, first of all, I hid the key in a hole in the wall, making sure of my return. And then I drew a deep sigh, almost unable to believe myself once more in that garden which held Táráwalí hidden somewhere in its dark recesses. And I said to myself, with emotion: Ah! now, come what may, at least I shall look upon her again, and very soon. And even for that alone, I am ready to die. And it may very well be that death is close at hand. For if Chaturiká is in the pay of Narasinha, as she very well may be, and has betrayed me, I may be walking straight into a trap. For his assassins may be posted in the trees in almost any number. And little should I care to die, so long as they only slew me on my return; but I am terribly afraid of being slain before I see her. For then indeed I should suffer the agony of a double death.

And I went on slowly in the shadow of the trees, guessing my direction, for I was going by a way I did not know, fearing not at all the death that might suddenly spring out upon me, but dreading far more than death the possibility of its anticipating my discovery of the Queen. And little by little, as nothing happened, I forgot my fears, saying to myself: To-morrow I will give Chaturiká anything in the world, and beg her pardon for suspecting her of breaking faith. But in the meantime, I must above all manage to come upon Táráwalí unawares, and escape her observation until I catch sight of her myself: for if she saw me first, she might hide, or even go away altogether, leaving me to look for her in vain, and making all assassination superfluous, since if I do not find her I shall simply die of my own accord, long before morning, of disappointment and despair. And so I went on very slowly, making absolutely no noise, like a Shabara stalking a wild elephant in the forest, dying of expectation, and yet not daring to make haste, for fear of losing all: until at last, after a very long time, I came to the terrace by the pool once more. And then I looked, and suddenly I caught sight of her, standing alone, like a pillar, on the very verge of the terrace steps.

And I stopped short in the shadow of a tree, to watch her for a little and master my emotion, holding my breath, and lost, not only in the ecstasy of being close to her again, but in sheer admiration of the wonder that I saw. For she was dressed as it seemed all in silver gauze, looking ashy pale in the moonlight, and she was standing absolutely straight up, with her two hands clasped behind her head, turning half towards me, so that I could just see her dark hair between her two bent arms, lit up not by a star, but a diadem like a young moon, that shone all yellow as if made by a row of topaz suns, so that she looked like a feminine incarnation of the Moony-crested god, smeared with silver sheen instead of ashes. And as she stood still with her two feet close together, gazing at the pool, with her head leaning a little back against the pillow of her hands, alone in the very middle of the terrace on the very edge of its top step, with nothing but the dusk for her background, resembling a great jar, her solitary silent figure, rising from its narrow base into lustrous moonlit curves that ended in the tall bosses of her breast, spread wide by her opened arms, stood out in a vision of exact and perfect balance, so marvellously lovely, that as I gazed at it, remembering how I held it in my arms, unable to contain my agitation, I uttered a deep sigh.

And instantly, she spoiled the picture, by changing her position, and looking straight towards me. And not being able to see me clearly by reason of the deep shadow that obscured me, she came back along the terrace in my direction, walking exactly as she did before, with the same intoxicating straightness of carriage, and the same rapid and undulating step, till I could have laughed aloud for very joy to see her coming to me, like the desire of my own heart incarnate in her round and graceful form. And as she reached me, she said, with exactly the same low and sweet and gentle voice that I was yearning with all my soul to hear again: Thou art late, for I have been waiting for thee a long time.