And he, who was standing straight and still, his arms hanging at his sides, answered quietly: “Yes, Ahalya. I am here. I have killed him.”
CHAPTER X
THE SONG OF NARMÁDA
For a long time they stood there, in the stillness of the night, looking at each other in a kind of lethargy; while between them, on the ground, lay the body of Ragunáth, gradually chilling, the blood from its three wounds still running thinly down into the pool beside it. Around and over all three of them myriad fireflies fluttered, like stars of the under-world, setting a ghastly glow over the ghastly scene. Fidá’s heart was beating very faintly now. He was obliged to breathe in little gasps. But he was not thinking of this. His mind was groping. He was still in a great darkness when Ahalya came over to him, walking carefully to avoid the blood, and laid both hands on his arm.
“Let us go back to the palace,” she whispered.
Fidá shook his head. “I think I shall not go back to the palace. I think I shall go on,” he answered.
“On! Whither?”
“Up. Up to be judged.”
“Fidá! Beloved! You will come with me.”
But the man was not to be moved by her tone, which was such a one as is used to a sick child. Possibly Fidá was mad, or very near it; but it was a quiet madness, and he was sure of his desires.
“Alas, Ahalya, what wrong I have done thee! All the wickedness that man can accomplish I have accomplished. Wherefore I am going up before Allah. But thou must not grieve for me, thou fairest of all women. Thou knowest well that I was very near the end. Most beautiful—most sweet—lotos-lidded, fear not lest I should not take upon my soul the double crime. Thou shalt be freed from all sin in the eyes of Allah and Mohammed. It is the last joy of love that I can perform for thee.”