[8] Hara is the name of a branch of the Chuhan Rajpúts. It is also a name of Siva.
[9] The most popular of the collections of old Hindu tales was the Kathâ-Sarit-Sâgara, or, “Ocean of the Streams of Narrative.” It originated in the desire of a queen of Kashmir to provide amusement and instruction for her grandson. Somadeva, the Prime Minister, produced, in consequence, this collection of tales in verse.
[10] Nandi is the bull of Siva usually placed in front of temples. Gupta is a concealed ascetic. The Guptas were a dynasty of kings reigning at Magadha.
Chapter II.
Iravati.
A young girl was seated on a balcony, all overgrown with trees and plants, in the great castle of Allahabad—palace and fortress in one. Her head rested on her hand as, musing, she gazed on the landscape stretched out before her on both sides of the two rivers that met here, and were now glittering in the light of an unclouded morning sun. To the left the rocky heights and sandy shores of the Jamuna; to the right the valley of the Granges; everywhere thick masses of mango-trees, in which numberless parrots and other bright-plumaged birds made their homes. Here and there small islands raised themselves above the surface of the water, and in the background there were rocky hills crowned with pagodas. Judging only by her dress, it would not have been supposed that the girl, sunk in a day-dream, was of exalted rank. She wore a simple white robe, with a narrow border of dark red, clasped by a golden girdle; a golden band held back her thick black locks, in which a single flower formed her only ornament, and that was all. But what need had the slight graceful figure, the fine-cut face, with its great dark eyes shaded by long silken lashes, for other ornament than that given by nature, and by Rama the god of love? And assuredly no offshoot of degenerate stem, no daughter of low degree, could have arrayed herself with so much elegance, and at the same time with such simplicity.
But the longing eyes did not, as of yore, rest with delight on the magnificent scene around. To-day, as yesterday and many days before, she gazed on the far-off mountains, in the direction from which the long-expected one must come; but long had she watched in vain. Where did he tarry? What could keep him? And did he think of her, or was it only occasionally that his thoughts wandered to her, who for days and months had devoted every thought to him and to him alone?
Then a heavy step was heard behind, in the room which opened on the verandah, and, preceded by a servant who flung back the curtain hanging before the door, a short, thick-set man of middle age approached, in a close-fitting garment that came down to his feet. A short sword with a richly ornamented hilt, stuck in his belt, was the only token of his rank.
“Noble lady,” said the servant, respectfully waking his mistress from her day-dream, “Salhana the governor, your father, comes to visit you.”