The Memoirs of a White Elephant

by Judith Gautier

Now, there would be no more of all that. She was going to live quietly and happily in the forest, like a little Hermit, served and waited on by a great White Slave! And I would take such good care of her—serve her so devotedly—with such thoughtfulness, such affection, such love!...

She was so light on my back that I did not feel her any more than if she had been a green fly, or a little blue-bird that had lighted on my rough skin. But I could hear her singing—and her voice delighted me. She was singing a very long and very beautiful song which one of her Maids of Honour had taught her; it was called the "Gita Govinda" and I think she did not understand it very well, but she liked it all the better on that account.

From time to time I raised my trunk and she clasped the tip in her little fingers, and laughingly "shook hands" with me! She was delighted with this excursion, for it was the first of the kind she had taken. Of course, she had heard of the deep parts of the forest, filled with bright flowers, and she knew that she had not been allowed to come here for fear some heavy fruit might fall on her from a tree, or a venomous serpent dart out upon her. She was not fond of contradictions—nor of being thwarted by obstacles of any sort, and being forbidden to enter it, she was all the more desirous to do so; it was, therefore, with great glee that she permitted her good friend Iravata to conduct her to the Forbidden Forest.

At the expiration of a couple of hours we had penetrated to the very heart of the wild wood.

The trees overhead were of a prodigious height, and their tops so full of leaves that the sunlight could not pass through. No plants grew at their feet, and there were neither bushes nor vines; nothing but an endless number of tall slender trunks without branches; it was as if we had entered the colonnade of an immense temple. Parvati was a little afraid now of this vast solitude—this profound silence. She no longer sang, and when she spoke her voice sounded sad....

I hastened, therefore, to go in another direction. I remembered that a short distance from where we were the ground rose gently till it formed a little hillock, which was celebrated for its beauty; so I turned in that direction, and soon reached the spot. A perfumed breeze wafted from it the sound of birds singing in the branches, and Parvati began again her song.

This new forest was wonderfully beautiful. There were so many flowers growing here that as I walked on and crushed them, my feet were stained as red as if I had been walking in blood. The trees bore more flowers than leaves, and swarms of bees buzzed among the branches. Little blossoms of blue and yellow bloomed even on the trunks of the trees, having pierced the bark with their tiny roots. There were great beds of tall plants which bore rich and fragrant blossoms. These were the Sacred Flowers, the dwelling place of the Good Fairies, who bestow great joys, and fulfill desires and hopes.

Parvati wished to dismount and gather some of them. I wrapped my trunk around her slender waist, and placed her—like another flower—among the crimson blossoms. She picked seven of the handsomest, made an opening in the centre of each, and threaded them on a thin stem, which held them together without crushing them. Then she unfastened her hair and shook it down over her shoulders, and arranged the wreath upon her head as best she could. I had never seen her look so pretty; her royal head-dresses were too heavy and elaborate and weighed down her delicate head. I would have preferred always to see her crowned only with this wreath of flowers which she herself had made without the aid of either slaves or mirrors.

I replaced her gently on my back and resumed my march through the forest. The vines had now become so numerous and so tall that I could no longer step over them; sometimes I had to rise on my hind legs and place my forefeet upon a tangle of green creepers that barred the way. The weight of my body was barely sufficient to break through these natural barriers and open a path before us.

Often too, the trees grew so close together, and the branches hung so low that my dear little Parvati might have been struck and scratched by the twigs and briars; at such times I lifted my trunk and held up, out of her way, all that might have touched her—-on whom I would not have permitted so much as a flower to rest and annoy her!