And she, pointing to the bamboo grove where stood in green slim hand clasping her sister’s:
“Of motherhood. Of this I dream night and day, knowing many beautiful things, but most of all this—that the heart of my lord, my beloved, cannot rest until a son of his is laid in his arms. O would, if I am barren, that my heart’s sister, my Prajapati, might give to our husband this gift of gifts!”
And he, with heavy brows:
“Dear lady and wife, the Gods give and withhold their great gift of life at pleasure. What have we left undone? We have besought them. We have offered of our best on many an altar. We have fed Brahmans, we have kept the precepts, and yet—they do not give. If in some former life we have sinned—Yet who can tell? It is their will, and must be borne even if it break my heart.”
Then Prajapati, raising her sweet eyes timidly to him, one slim hand clasping her sister’s:
“If my lord please to take another wife, then indeed my sister and I will serve her, and if a son is born, what can we but rejoice?”
And he:
“That son would not be the child of my Queens, and most of all of Maya, the Great Lady. Dear he might be, but not so dear; and, moreover, you both, my ladies, have heard the word of the wandering Rishi, the wise ascetic, who prophesied that in this city, in this fortunate palace, should a child be born, a ruler of men, a King among Kings.”
“May it be here and now!” said the lady Maya. And again, softly: “May we be found worthy!”
There was a long silence and only Rohini, the river, talked of sweet secret things as she went her way. And presently the Maharaja added: