I must go. I must give to my beloved Parvati this last proof of my devotion.
The night before the wedding I waited for the moon to set, and then I noiselessly opened the great door of my stable, and stole softly out.
For a moment I thought of going for a last time under the window of the Princess's chamber, and of gathering some lotus flowers and fastening them to her balcony, as I had often done before; that would have been a sort of "good-bye" and she would have understood. But my heart was heavy, and my eyes dim; I feared if I did so I might give way, and be unable to carry out my resolution, and leave. So, I crossed the courtyard quickly, lifted the bar and the chain on the gateway, and then, after fastening them once more to the best of my ability, I went forth.
A great silence rested everywhere on Golconda; all was dark and empty. My head hung down with shame and sorrow, and as I walked my big tears fell on the road, so that I could have been traced by them, if the dust had not at once dried them up!
The day was dawning when I drew near the forest which had so often been the goal of my excursions with the little Princess.
In those days, when the dusky outline of the trees and thickets shone out against the brilliant rose-colour of the sky, how delighted was I to entertain the laughing Princess with my gay frolics! And now, how sadly and mournfully was I seeking its somber shade! My breast swelled with huge sighs—elephantine sighs—which escaped me with such terrible sounds that the beasts of the forest fled away, frightened.
I was so overcome that I was obliged to stop, and had I been a man I might, like the Court Poet, have put into verse the emotions of my heart, and the hoarse groans which burst from me could have been translated thus:
"Alas! I shall see thee no more, dearest Parvati:
Smile of my life, Sun of my days, Moon of my night!
I shall see thee no more... Alas!
"No more will thy soft hand stroke me!
Nor thy gentle voice speak the friendly words
That sounded sweeter to me than the sweetest music!
"But I leave thee to avoid committing a fearful crime.
"Thou, no doubt wilt soon have forgotten me.
Thou wilt always be the divine Princess Parvati,
Loved and blessed by all!
But I, deprived of thee,
Shall be only a poor wandering brute,
With naught to comfort me
But the remembrance of former happiness!..."
Yes, that is how the Poet would have lamented—and I also if I had not been an elephant!
I went on deeper and deeper into the forest, and the thought came to me of asking help of the good Hermit who had so kindly received us on the day when I attempted to carry off the Princess, and when the serpent and the storm had brought me to repent of my wrong doing.