[CHAPTER XVII]
THE ABDUCTION
One day a most culpable idea came into my head. Parvati had for some time past shown herself extremely irritated by the constantly increasing demands of her position as Princess; by the Receptions, the Parades, the long dissertations of the Brahmans upon the present and the future Life, and the interminable Poems, recited in a monotonous voice by the court Poet in reference to the most insignificant events that occurred at the palace.
"Oh!" said she, "to be free! to be only a simple mortal! To do only what one likes to do! without being obliged to wear a mask, and force oneself to smile, when one feels like weeping—or to be solemn, when one wants to laugh!"...
To be free! I also thought of it during the long days when I was deprived of her companionship.... Well! It was easy enough! We had but to steal away to the depths of the forest, and never return!
I refused to consider the wickedness of such a scheme. I repelled all the objections that might have suggested themselves, and one day, leaving the palace of Golconda as if for an ordinary promenade, I was firmly resolved never to return to it.
I gained the forest more quickly than usual, and pushed on to portions far beyond those where we had previously ventured.
At this distance I felt safe. I was quite sure they could not pursue us, for it had not rained for a long time, and the dry ground showed no trace of my enormous feet. Still, in order to make sure, I marched for half an hour along the bed of a shallow stream, to throw the dogs off the scent, and when I again stepped onto the ground I felt confident that I was now, indeed, to be for a long time alone with my dear little Princess Parvati.
At last I had quitted that Court where everything combined to separate me from my little friend—ceremonies, etiquette, the great festivals, and the thousand demands of the toilette, which occupied her at all hours of the day, in order that she might never appear in public twice in the same costume.