“No,” said Siddha, in his turn reproachfully, “that is a foolish game, and one that you should not play.”
Iravati hardly listened to him, but watched with breathless attention the waving leaf that was dancing on the rippling water. “Faithful, faithful!” she cried; but then a sigh from the south wind caught the frail vessel. It turned over and floated bottom upwards, while the lotus disappeared. “Alas!” cried Iravati, as she let her head sink in her breast; “my forebodings, then, have not deceived me.”
“Fie! I say now in my turn,” said Siddha; “a noble, well educated lady to hold to such follies, that are only to be excused in ignorant peasant girls. And so you place more faith in the leaf of a tree than in the word of honour of a nobleman who has pledged you his troth, as you have to him?”
“Ah! Siddha,” sighed Iravati, “you must forgive me if I do seem rather childish; and does not my uneasiness show you how much I love you? However great my faith in your word is, I cannot help thinking with anxiety of the city to which you go; and who knows what temptation awaits you there? But I confess that I was wrong, and,” continued she, leaning her head on his shoulder, “I know that Siddha is mine, now and always, and no other woman lives who can rob me of his heart.”
Putting his arm around her, Siddha gazed at her in silence; but his look said more than the warmest assurance could have done. A jingling of bangles made them look up, and Iravati said, “Our interview, my friend, is ended; there comes Nipunika, my servant, to warn us.” And a moment after, the servant appeared, her brown ancles and arms clasped with golden bangles, and announced to her mistress that the Governor requested her to return to her apartments, and begged his nephew to join him and Kulluka at their meal. Giving him her hand for a moment, Iravati, accompanied by Nipunika, returned to the palace. Siddha followed to seek his uncle and his travelling companion. The meal was not wanting in magnificence and luxury, and was served in one of the smaller apartments, from the open verandah of which there was a magnificent view of the country around. There were cushions of silk with richly embroidered borders, on which the guests took their places; gold and silver vessels; choice meats and wines; numbers of servants of all nations, and in every costume; in a word, everything that was conformable to the rank of Salhana, governor of the fortress, and, for the moment, the man of the highest rank of all the inhabitants of the royal palace. But merriment was wanting to the courtly feast, and confidential intercourse was not possible. All was formal, stately, and stiff, and the conversation meaningless and polite, and only sustained by the three men because silence would have been uncourteous. How different, thought Siddha, was their simple meal with the hermit of the mountain; and it seemed that Kulluka was of the same opinion, for, stealing a glance at his guru, he saw a smile on his face, unobserved by Salhana. At last their repast came to an end, but the remainder of the day brought no pleasure to Siddha. He wandered for some time under the balcony of the apartments which Nipunika, whom he met, pointed out as those of her mistress. But Iravati did not show herself, and when, towards evening, she appeared in the presence of her father and his guests, it was only to take leave of him with the same formality that had attended their meeting in the morning.
At dawn next morning they were to recommence their journey, to avoid the heat of mid-day, and the travellers withdrew early to their apartments. Needful as rest was, the younger man was not inclined at once to seek it. Taking off his arms, instead of throwing himself on his bed, he stood for some time at the open window, from which there was a view of the whole fortress, and all the thickets of trees, half-hidden in the dimness of night. Behind them rose hills, with here and there temples and other sacred buildings. His mind was not alone occupied with Iravati’s image, but also with the conversation with his uncle, and the strange meeting with the mysterious priest, who, by some artifice or accident, had become acquainted with his adventure with the tiger, though how, he could not guess. But to what did all this tend? What did the man want? And Salhana the governor; could he trust him? and were his instructions to be followed, and all that had happened this morning kept secret from Kulluka? or would it not be better to consult him about it?
An unexpected appearance made Siddha for an instant lose the thread of his thoughts, though they were at once brought back to him. On the nearest wall, where the low breastwork stood sharply out against the light that still lingered in the sky, two figures suddenly showed themselves above the parapet, who, though he could not distinguish their features, he recognised as his uncle the governor, and Gorakh the priest of Durga. Again the two were together, and at so late an hour. But the most wonderful part of this apparition was the entirely changed bearing of both. There was no trace of their former stiffness and stateliness, and one gesticulated more violently than the other, carried away by their engrossing conversation, as they walked up and down, now towards the castle, and now towards the hills. This continued until they were suddenly disturbed by the appearance of other figures, which, one by one, moved along the outer wall, their emaciated forms entirely naked with the exception of a white cord round their necks, which here in the half light was visible in contrast with their dark skins. On their approach Salhana disappeared, probably through some stairs leading to the palace, invisible from where Siddha was. The priest, immediately regaining his dignity, and pointing with his right hand towards one of the temples, placed himself at the head of the band, and led the way along the wall to the dark wood lying at the foot of the rocks. A long row of figures followed him, and Siddha had long ceased to count them ere the last disappeared in the jungle.
In spite of himself a slight feeling of horror had seized on him as he saw their strange forms pass by, and associated them with the name of the goddess to whose service Gorakh was dedicated, and to whose temple they appeared bound. Could it be true that the sect still existed, of which he had so often heard, but believed to be either rooted out or to have died out—that mysterious league of demons in human form that had so long been the plague and terror of Hindustan, the most terrible product that religious fanaticism had ever brought to life? And with the leader of such a band was it possible that his uncle, the servant of the Emperor, should be allied! It was indeed not to be believed, and laughing at his foolish fancies, Siddha left the window, and hastily throwing off his clothes, flung himself on the bed prepared for him. But it was long before he could sleep, for the conflicting images of Iravati, Salhana, Gorakh, and his naked followers, kept passing through his head; and before he fell asleep he had come to the determination not to speak to Kulluka of what he had that day seen and heard. That his uncle was mixed up with secret affairs was clear to him; still for a statesman that was not unnatural, and there was nothing to make him suspect they were criminal, though their discovery might be injurious to Salhana, and perhaps to his nearest relatives. He would not, he felt, be justified in betraying what confidential conversation and a pure accident had made him acquainted with. Kulluka himself would certainly condemn such a course of action.
[1] Iravati is the Sanscrit name of the river Raví or Hydrastes. Iravat was a son of Arjuna.