“He is welcome,” answered the girl, accustomed from infancy to be addressed with respect; and rising, she advanced to meet her father.
“Iravati,”[1] said he, looking at her with his black, penetrating eyes, which gave the only expression to his pale countenance, “some time ago I told you that I expected Siddha Rama, from Kashmir, your cousin and betrothed, with Kulluka his tutor. They have just arrived, and are now in the neighbouring gallery. We will go there to receive them.”
On hearing these tidings, for one moment Iravati seemed to forget all the calm reserve to which she had schooled herself, and would have hurried past her father to welcome him whom she had so long waited for; but Salhana delayed her by a slight motion of his hand.
“First one word,” he said. “It is known to me that the professors of Islam, under whom we live, disapprove most highly of free intercourse between unmarried youths and young girls, and that many of our Hindus have adapted themselves to the opinions of our governors; but for my part, as you know, I am a follower of our old customs, however much I wish to see observed all fitting forms, and so I give you permission, as in early days in our own country, freely to speak with your cousin and bridegroom, but only allow our most trusted friends to know it, otherwise my influence here, where I govern, and your good name, may suffer. Now come.” And going before her, he led the way to the open verandah looking down on the river, where their two visitors stood awaiting their appearance.
“You are welcome, my lords and friends,” said Salhana, with dignity; “and I thank you for granting my request, and coming straight to my dwelling, instead of taking up your abode in the town, as many do.” These words sounded cordial, though the tone in which they were pronounced was as expressionless as his stiff countenance.
Some might have remarked this, but not Siddha, who, barely greeting his stately uncle or giving Kulluka time to receive the reverent greeting of Iravati, flung himself on his knees before her, and pressed a burning kiss on the hand she held out to him.
“Welcome,” she said, signing to him to rise, (and how sweet sounded that gentle voice!) “welcome, friend. How long we have watched for your approach, looking towards yonder mountains, and almost doubting if you would ever come!”
“You did not believe, beloved,” cried Siddha, almost indignantly, “that I would have delayed my arrival in Allahabad for one moment longer than was necessary. If I could have leapt over rivers and mountains to have been sooner with you, and had my horse had more wings than Vishnu’s Garuda,[2] I should not, indeed, have spared him.”
“I believe you willingly,” said Iravati, with a friendly smile, “and indeed I meant no reproach to you or to our trusty friend Kulluka, and we must rejoice all the more at being together, as I hear from my father that it is only for a very short time.”
“Indeed,” said Salhana, after a few words with Kulluka, interrupting the conversation of the two lovers, “our friends must leave us early to-morrow; but I did not expect otherwise. Yet, noble Siddha, I must shorten by a few minutes your interview with your bride, as I wish to speak a few words with you, and at once, for my time is precious, and before our mid-day meal I have many things to do. Will it please you to follow me?”