[2] A favourite allegory in the Rig-Veda, connected with Indra’s power over the elements, is his war with the demon Vritra. “With his vast destroying thunderbolt Indra struck the darkling mutilated Vritra. As the trunks of the trees are felled by the axe, so lies Vritra prostrate on the earth. The waters carry off the nameless body of Vritra, tossed into the midst of the never-stopping, never-resting currents. The foe of Indra has slept a long darkness.”—“Rig-Veda,” Sukta xxxii.
Chapter XIII.
Parting.
The tidings of Abú-l Fazl’s death had made an overwhelming impression on the Emperor. It seemed to him as if everything that had until now been his support was suddenly failing him. He who had been so strong, who had never known faint-heartedness when threatened by the fiercest storms, who had braved the greatest dangers, and had always come back victor from the strife, now felt his strength crippled, and as though he were almost powerless among the many disturbances that were again breaking out in his empire. All he was capable of in those first days was to order the arrest of Nara Singh, the murderer; but this order it was impossible to carry out, as the Raja had fled and found a safe refuge far away, to await the time when Salim should ascend the throne and load him with favours. However, it was not possible that a man of Akbar’s character could remain bowed down under the burden of sorrow, however heavy it might be. For some days he shut himself up entirely, and admitted no one except Faizi and some of his most trusted friends; but with time courage returned to him to receive others who sought audience either respecting their own affairs or those of the state. Among these was Padre Aquaviva, who, before his departure, wished to take a personal leave of the Emperor.
“So you are going to leave us again, worthy Father?” said Akbar, as the Jesuit was ushered into his presence.
“I must do so, Sire,” answered Aquaviva; “our Provincial summons me back to Goa. But I cannot depart without expressing to your Majesty my heartiest thanks for the honour and favours that have here been shown us, though I hesitated to ask an audience after your serious and bitter loss. A worthy man, a true friend, and a faithful servant was Abú-l Fazl, and the memory of such a man is certainly a comfort in the midst of the sorrow that his loss causes. But,” added he, after a moment’s pause, “this would not be to me a sufficient consolation.”
“Not enough!” repeated Akbar in surprise. “What more would you demand?”
“I should wish for the certainty that he died with a purer soul, and with happier expectations than was possible.”
“Abú-l Fazl,” answered the Emperor, in an earnest but calm voice,—“Abú-l Fazl was as pure of soul as any of yours can be, without saying more, and he died as I would wish to die.”