“Let me go with you,” entreated she.
“No,” replied Iravati, “that is impossible; to protect one woman is enough for Kulluka and his servant. I have told you of my plan, which for the present must be a secret, in order that, in case I should not return, some one may know where I am, and what I am doing in Kashmir.”
“But would it not be better to ask the Governor for an escort?”
“No, for a few armed men would awaken suspicion; and the Governor cannot spare a strong detachment. We three alone have a far better chance of accomplishing our journey in safety.”
It was not, however, possible to depart at once, for Kulluka’s horses were so fatigued by the distance they had come, that rest was necessary until the following day. Iravati found the hours of waiting long and wearisome: she sat, still dreaming over the one subject that was master of all her thoughts. Suddenly, with a terror which she could not explain to herself, she looked up as she heard the step of some one approaching, and in the next moment the man whom of all others she least expected to see, stood before her—Salim.
“You here!” she cried.
“I am on my way to Bengal,” answered the Prince, “and have arrived at a fortunate moment, to hinder you from carrying out a plan too wild and foolish ever to have found place in the mind of a sensible woman. Through love to you your servant has disobeyed your orders, and begged me to interfere, which I have promised to do.”
“Do not trouble yourself, my lord, with my plans, I entreat,” said Iravati. “I am no longer a child that knows not what it does; and in any case, it is not your duty to watch over me.”
“But I shall do so, for the sake of your welfare, and also—why should I not say it frankly?—because I cannot bear to see you go to my hated rival, who is himself untrue to you. I cannot bear the idea of your showering caresses on this man, if you find him living, when you have rejected me; and therefore I shall make use of my power, and force you to remain here against your will.”
“You can do so, Salim,” answered Iravati, “but you will not. You know well that instead of gaining by so cowardly an exercise of your power you would only lose; you would not win me, nor hasten Siddha’s death by one moment; and this action would draw down upon you my deepest contempt instead of the respect which, until now, I have felt for you, although I could not give you my love. Do you desire this? And not my contempt alone, but also your own. Will you behave as a weak woman who is not master of her own heart, and give way to unreasonable passion? or do you wish to behave as a man who knows how to rule himself, and who, by so doing, shows me he is worthy to reign over others? Choose for yourself; I ask no favour.”