“You seek to convince yourself that you do, from an exaggerated feeling of honour; but it is not possible that you should do so, and the day would come when you would regret that you had not known yourself better. There can be no love where there is no respect. The woman must look up to the man, and unhappy is the union where he is the weaker. Go, and forget me; I am not even worthy of your remembrance.”
“Then you thrust me away?”
“I have no right to thrust you away, nor to release you from your word. I only do so in order to give you rest, and to spare you any self-reproach that you might feel at leaving me of your own free will.”
“Listen to my prayer, Siddha,” said she, entreatingly, and laying her hand on his arm. “I will not dispute what you say, I will not wish or require anything as my right. I only implore you to listen to the wish that is dearest to my heart. I do not ask any promise for the future. I give you the fullest liberty; but let me remain with you for the present, even if it is for a short time. It is impossible for me to part with you now.”
“No, and never!” answered Siddha, sternly. “No hesitation, no weakness; once for all, leave me and forget me.” And pushing Iravati, who went on before him, he prepared to hurry away, so that he might never again see her whom until this moment he had never loved so tenderly.
“Let it be so,” said Iravati, rising up, with an injured feeling of self-respect, and speaking with a firm voice; “let it be so, you are perhaps right. You make yourself unworthy of my love. Once, in spite of your promises, you have been unfaithful to me, but that I had forgotten and forgiven; for I knew you had been led away by temptation unknown to me. But now you drive me from you, not because I have committed any fault, but because you are too proud to confess to your wife that you have once been weak and unable to withstand temptation. Leave me, then. Without you my life is without value; but a forced love no woman can seek, not even from the man she loves. And now, to the memory of the crime you have been guilty of against a friend, add the memory of a woman whom you loved, yet sacrificed to your selfish pride.”
Siddha hesitated. Should he go, or stay? The latter he would gladly do, but how could he reconcile it with honour? “Who shall decide?” he said, striking his forehead with his hand. “There is truth in what you say, though it is in conflict with what I consider right. Yet,” continued he, “another, who is wiser than either of us, shall decide between us.”
“You mean Kulluka?”
“No, not him. Highly as I prize his opinion, I know beforehand that he would only try to secure our happiness, and, to do so, would decide that you are right. He would not be impartial in his judgment. There is another; but do not ask me further. He alone can I trust to decide between us; and he will advise me. Listen, then, Iravati; let me depart hence as speedily as possible. Perhaps I shall return soon, perhaps never. Should I return, then my life shall henceforth be devoted to you. If not, then understand that you will never see me more, and that you are freed from all ties that bind you to me. Do not raise objections, but have patience with me, such as, till now, you have always shown.”
Before Iravati could reply to this new and unexpected proposal, Siddha had disappeared to seek his servant, and to order his horse to be saddled, so as to set out on their journey, his destination being unknown to her.