{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_68641/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_68641","id":"gutenberg_68641","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68641","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Hindu legends"],"text":"THE DESCENT OF THE SUN.\n\n\n\n\n[Sanskrit script]\n\n(The illusion of a waking dream.)\n\n\n\n  Like a Digit of the Moon\n    In the Shadow of the Earth\n  Spirit undergoeth Swoon\n    In the Vestibule of Birth;\n  Dreameth transitory trouble,\n    Weareth Hues of Heaven, hurled\n  Hither, thither, as a Bubble\n    On the Ocean of the World.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Crescent moon]\n\n[_vide n. p._ xv.]\n\n\n\n\n  THE\n\n  DESCENT OF THE SUN\n\n  [Sanskrit script]\n\n  _A CYCLE OF BIRTH_\n\n  TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT.\n\n  BY\n\n  F. W. BAIN\n\n\n  [Sanskrit script]\n\n  '_and in a dream I saw a lotus fallen from heaven_'\n\n\n\n  THIRD EDITION.\n\n\n\n  James Parker and Co.,\n  31 BEDFORD-STREET, STRAND, LONDON;\n  AND 27 BROAD-STREET, OXFORD.\n  1906.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Title page]\n\n\n\n\n  _First Edition_, 1903.\n  _Second Edition_, 1903.\n  _Third Edition_, 1906.\n\n\n\n\n  DEDICATED\n  TO\n  MARGARET.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\nHere is a fairy tale which I found in an old Hindoo manuscript.\n\n\nAs the title shows, it is a solar myth.  Literally translated, its\nname is: _The glory of the Going Down of the Sun_.  But this is only\nthe exoteric, physical envelope of the inner, mystical meaning, which\nis: _The Divine Lustre[1] of the Descent_ (Incarnation) _of Him Who\ntook Three Steps_: i.e. Wishnu, or the Sun, the later Krishna, or\nHindoo Apollo.  And this epithet of the Sun is explained by the\nwell-known passage in the Rig-Weda (I. 22. 17[2]), '_Three steps did\nWishnu stride: thrice did he set down his foot._'  A mythological\nexpression for the rise, the zenith, and the set of the Sun.  But the\nold magnificent simplicity of the Rig-Weda was perverted by\nsubsequent Pauranik glosses; and Wishnu, according to the new legend,\nwas said to have cheated his adversary, Bali, by striding, in his\nDwarf Incarnation, over the three worlds.  In our title, a different\nturn is given to the old idea, which we may express by saying that\nthe steps commence, not with the rise, but the set of the Sun: his\nGoing Down, his mysterious period of Darkness, his Rising again.\nThis is the inverted Race, or Cycle of the Sun, which so much\nexercised the mind of primitive man, and seemed to be a symbol of the\nmystery of Birth and Death.\n\nAnd ours is a strange story; which seemed to the translator not\nunworthy of being clothed in an English dress, containing as it did\nso much in little bulk that, as the French say, _donne \u00e0 penser_.\nAbsolutely Hindoo in its form and spirit, it is for an Englishman\nfull of associations, and instinct with that philosophical mythology,\nscraps and fragments of which are familiar to him in the story of the\nFall and the poetry of Milton, in many an old fairy tale, in some\ntouches of Pythagoras and Plato, and some old religious legends.\n_Lux in tenebris_: a dazzling light, in the most profound darkness:\nthe night of the sun: a heavenly body, doomed to put on mortality and\nsuffer for a period in this lower world of darkness, birth and death:\nin some such ways as these we may express its central idea.  But for\nthe reader not acquainted with Sanskrit it may be worth while to\npoint out that there runs throughout it a veiled allegory which he\nwould not be apt to detect, to the teaching of the S\u00e1nkhya Philosophy\nof Kapila, (who is older than Thales;) according to which it is the\nduty of PURUSHA, the archetype of the spirit of man, the Prim\u00e6val\nMale, to hunt for and pursue PRAKRITI, the feminine personification\nof material Nature, the Eternal Feminine, till he finds her: when\ninstantly she disappears 'like an actress[3].'  In this respect, the\nstory somewhat recalls the _Gita-Gowind_ of Jayadewa, which according\nto one school of interpreters, deals with the Soul, personified as\nthe lovely R\u00e1dh\u00e1, in its search after the Divine.  For among the\nHindoos, the earthly and the heavenly love are always confounded.\n\nAnd let not anyone suppose, that the lesson embodied in these pages\nis obsolete or dead in the India of to-day.  I wrote the last lines\nof this translation late one evening, and I walked out in the dusk to\nthe bridge across the river, about half a mile away.  There was not a\nbreath of air.  It was a night as still as that which long ago Medea\nchose on which to work her spells: nothing moved save the twinkling\nstars; all below was plunged in sleep, every tree a picture, every\nleaf seemed carved in stone: only, every now and then, a flying fox\nburst screeching from a branch.  And as I stood upon the bridge, I\ncould hear a faint din of tom-toms coming from the distant city of\nthe Peshwas.  I looked westwards, up the river.  The sun had set,\nleaving behind it a ruddy glare which faded higher up the sky into\nthe darkness: and exactly on the confines of the colours, in that\nbath of _nilalohita_, that _purple-red_, which is a favourite epithet\nof the god Shiwa, hung, like a thing in a dream, the lovely streak of\nthe new moon, one day old.  All was reflected in the still mirror of\nthe broad sheet of water formed by the river _Bund_, or dam.\n\nI turned round.  On the eastern side, below the bridge, the river\nruns in disconnected pools.  All was buried in dark and gloom.  But\nabout two hundred yards away, on the right bank, there was a red spot\nand leaping flames.  They were burning on the bank a corpse, whose\nformer owner had died of plague.  For here in Poona it is now, as it\nwas of old in the days of Homer, [Greek: aie\u00ec d\u00e8 pura\u00ec nek\u00faon ka\u00edonto\nthameia\u00ed ....]\n\nSuddenly a voice said behind me: They burn well on a cold night.  I\nlooked round.  Beside me stood a Hindoo, whose real name I do not\nthink it lawful to mention.  His white clothes were stained and\nsplashed all over with red, for the Holi festival had left its mark\non him.\n\nWhy, Wishwan\u00e1th, I said, what are you doing here?  Or have you come,\nlike me, merely _dekhne ke w\u00e1ste_, to see the sun set, and 'eat air'?\n\nWishwan\u00e1th cast a careless glance at the sky.  Yes, he said, it looks\nwell from here: but then I have seen it so often.  It was a new moon\nyesterday.\n\nAnd very soon it will be old.  Look, Wishwan\u00e1th, here is a strange\nthing.  See, there on that side is the moon, following the sun to\nrest in a bath of fire, and they will both appear to-morrow all the\nbetter for it.  But now, look down there.  There is another thing\npassing away in the fire.  But how will it be with _that_?\n\nAnd I pointed to the burning pyre on the other side.\n\nThe Hindoo looked steadily at it for a moment, and then at me.  It\nwill be just the same, he said.\n\nWhat! you think that _that_ will come back again, like sun and moon?\n\nHe did not answer for a moment.  Then he said slowly, in a low voice,\nas if speaking rather to himself than me: How should it not return?\n_na j\u00e1yate mriyate wa kad\u00e1chit_[4].\n\nI looked at him, but said nothing.  He continued to gaze steadily at\nthe burning pyre, in silence, and I did the same.  The flames were\ndying down: their work was done.\n\nMetempsychosis, transmigration, everlasting incarnation and\nre-incarnation of the immortal soul in body after body, birth after\nbirth: all Hindoo literature is but the kaleidoscopic reiteration of\nthis one identical idea, whose beauty is such that no logic will ever\ndestroy it or oust it in favour of another.  For the Sanskrit\nlanguage is a kind of shrine, consecrated to the embodiment and\nimmortalisation of this philosophical myth.  The Hindoos are\npossessed by it; it is their hereditary heirloom, _Kram\u00e1gatam_, the\nlegacy from an immemorial past: it is all that they have left.  And\nnations, like the characters in our story, cling desperately, in\nperiods of degradation and eclipse, to all that reminds them of a\nformer state of ideal prosperity, which lingers in their literature\nand echoes in their souls, like dim recollections of a forgotten\nparadise, or faint reminiscences of a former birth.  Distance lends\nenchantment, and time effaces detail, and endows stern realities with\ndreamy beauty; and thus a rugged stony past fades gradually into a\npicture, blue, soft, and unutterably beautiful, like some low barren\nisland, seen far away in the haze, over a hot and glittering sea.\n\n    POONA,\n  _March_ 21, 1903.\n\n\n[1] _Shr\u00ed_ also means a Sacred Lotus, and it is the name of the\ntwelfth Digit of the Moon: thus indicating the position of this story\nin the series to which it belongs: for an account of which, and the\nmanuscript, I may refer the reader to the preface to her predecessor\n_Shashin\u00ed_, entitled _A Digit of the Moon_.\n\n[2] Cp. also I. 154, 155, and elsewhere.  It should be observed that\nlearned doctors differ as to the interpretation of the _three\nstrides_: but this is not the place to examine their views.\n\n[3] From this point of view, the period of Night would be the reign\nof _Tamas_, one of the three great categories of that philosophy: the\nQuality of _Darkness_, as opposed to _Light_, _Ignorance_, as opposed\nto _Knowledge_, _Evil_, as opposed to _Good_, the World _Below_, as\nopposed to the World _Above_.\n\n[4] From the Bhagwad-Git\u00e1: IT _is never born and never dies_.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nSUNSET.--An Evil Eye\n\nNIGHT.--A Sleep and a Dream\n\nDAWN\n\n\n[_Note_.--As the story belongs, by its title, both to Sun and Moon,\nit should be observed, that the Night and the two Twilights, Dusk and\nDawn, apply to both in opposite ways.  The Moon rises when the Sun\nsets, reigns over the Night when he is buried in Darkness, and either\nsets or vanishes when he is risen in his light.  For the Moon is the\ntype of Night, or this lower world (_ihaloka_), but the Sun, of Day,\nthat is, of the other.]\n\n\n\n\n  NIGHT.\n\n\n  I.  A Lotus of the Day\n  II.  By Beat of Drum\n  III.  An Eclipse of the Sun\n  IV.  Inspiration\n  V.  Nightwalker\n  VI.  A Lotus of the Night\n  VII.  The Silver Swans\n  VIII.  The Land of the Lotus\n  IX.  Recognition\n  X.  Separation\n  XI.  The Lord of the Beasts\n  XII.  The Other Body\n  XIII.  A Light in Darkness\n  XIV.  Illusion\n  XV.  The Dead of Night\n  XVI.  Before Dawn\n\n\n\n\nSunset\n\nAN EVIL EYE.\n\n\n\n\nThe Descent of the Sun.\n\n\nINVOCATION.\n\n_O glorious and infinite Spirit of Peace, Lord of Ascetics, who\nwhirling round in thy wild dance dost lend as it were its colour to\nthe sky, in whose mirror are seen reflected the blueness of thy\nthroat and the silver digit of the moon in the matted tufts of thy\ntawny hair: thee we adore.  And we worship the ever victorious trunk\nof the Elephant of Elephants, whose fierce glare consumes the\ninnumerable hosts of opposing obstacles, as a forest fire shrivels\nthe blades of dry grass_[1].\n\n\nLong ago, on the slopes of Him\u00e1laya, there lived a young King of the\nSpirits of the Air, named Kamalamitra[2]; for he was a portion of the\nSun.  And he worshipped the husband of Um\u00e1[3].  And he turned his\nback on the pleasures of the senses, and went afar off, and dwelt\nalone, among the icy peaks and snowy plateaux that lie around Kail\u00e1s.\nAnd there he remained, living at first upon leaves, and then upon\nsmoke, and finally upon air, performing penances of appalling\nseverity, till after a hundred years[4] that Lord of Creatures was\nmoved to compassion.  And he appeared to him, in the twilight of\nevening, in the guise of an ascetic, but in stature like a tall tree,\nwith the new moon in his hair, and said: I am pleased with thy\ndevotion, so now I grant thee a boon: ask.  Then the young King bowed\nbefore him, and said: Blessed One, let me continue in this\ncontemplation of thee: that is enough.  Then said Maheshwara: This is\nwell said: nevertheless, ask of me some boon.  Then said Kamalamitra:\nSince it is so, and I must absolutely choose, then give me a wife,\nwhose eyes, like these hills and this sky, shall be full of the dusky\nlustre[5] of thy throat and thy moon, as if, insatiate of gazing at\nthee, they had become, not transitory mirrors, but pictures\npermanently stained with thy glory.  For so shall she be a medium of\ndevotion between me and thee.\n\nThen the moon-crested God was pleased.  But he looked into the\nfuture, by his magic power of divination, and saw what was coming.\nAnd he said slowly: Eyes such as these will be dangerous, not only to\nothers, but also to their owner.  Nevertheless, I have given thee a\nboon: thou shalt have thy desire.\n\nThen he disappeared, and Kamalamitra returned home rejoicing.  And by\nthe favour of the deity all the emaciation and fatigue of his\npenances left him, and he became strong as Bhima and beautiful as\nArjuna[6].  And he arrived at his palace on the evening of the next\nday, and went into the garden to repose, as the sun was going down.\nAnd as he went, he looked before him, and suddenly he saw a woman,\nfloating on a pool of white lotuses, in a boat of sandal, with silver\noars.  And her glances fell on those snowy flowers, and turned their\ntint to blue, for her eyes were lowered: and she was resting her chin\non one hand as she lay, and with the other dropping one by one into\nthe water the petals of a lotus red as blood.  And the round curve of\nher hip stood up like a sand bank, and was mirrored again in the\nsilent water below.  And her lips moved, for she was counting the\npetals as they fell.\n\nAnd Kamalamitra stood still, holding his breath, and gazing at her,\nfearing to move, for he thought it was a dream.  Then all at once she\nlooked up and saw him, and smiled, bathing him with the colour of her\neyes.  And it seemed to Kamalamitra that he stood in a pool of colour\nformed by the essence of all the blue lotuses in the world.  And then\nsuddenly he remembered the boon of the God who is clothed with\nheaven[7], and he exclaimed: Surely thou art my own wife, sent me by\nthe God who keeps his promises, and none other.  For yesterday I\ngazed at his glory, and now I am gazing at thy two eyes, and it is\nthe same.  And if it be so, by what name shall I call thee?  Then she\nsaid: My name is Anushayin\u00ed[8], and for what purpose did the Creator\nform these eyes, but to reflect the image of their lord?\n\nThen Kamalamitra, having thus obtained her from the deity, took\npossession of his lovely little wife, and thereafter remained with\nher in the region about Kail\u00e1s, utterly bewildered and intoxicated by\nconstantly gazing at those mirrors of deity, her two great eyes.  And\nhe plunged into their sea, and was drowned in it, and the whole world\nseemed to him to be made of lotus blue[9].  And like a vessel filled\nto the brim and running over, he was so overflowing with delight in\nher beauty, and the pride of having so unique a specimen of womankind\nall to himself, that he could not contain his emotion, but sought\nrelief in going about everywhere talking about her, and trying to get\neverybody to acknowledge, what he thought himself, that all other\nwomen in the world were absolutely nothing in comparison with his own\nwife.  Alas! a woman is one thing, and emancipation quite another.\n\nSo it happened, that on a day, when he was disputing about her with\none of his friends, and abusing him, for not readily admitting all\nhis own eulogies of his wife, that friend of his suddenly burst out\nlaughing, and exclaimed: For all things there is a cure, even for\nsnake-bite there is a cure, but there is no cure, for one who has\nbeen bitten with a woman's beauty.  Know, O thou infatuated lover,\nthat the golden glamour of our Other Half, Man's ectype, Woman, is\nnot like a simple musical theme, but one infinitely various,\ncontaining ten thousand notes, and stirring like a churning stick all\nthe emotions in the ocean of the soul of man.  And however beautiful\nmay be thy wife's eyes, still eyes are only eyes, and a woman is not\nall eye, but something more.  For one woman witches us, like a\nwaterfall, with the music of her bubbling laughter, and another\nentrances us, like a forest-pool, with the peace of her shadowy\nsilence.  And one entangles us, like Yama[10], in the nectar-nooses\nof her hair, while another pierces us, like Manobhawa[11] with the\narchery of her poisoned eyes.  And one enflames us, like the Sun, in\nthe fever-fire of sick desire, while another soothes us, like the\nMoon, by the camphor of her dewy kisses.  And like oxen, we are\ngoaded, by the biting sting of one woman's evil, and like elephants,\nwe are tamed, by the subtle spell of another's purity; and like\nbirds, we are decoyed, by the lure of the bower of one girl's arms,\nand like bees, we hover and sip, around the honey of another's lips,\nand like snakes, we wind and coil[12] round the slender stem of one\ngirl's waist, and like weary travellers, we long to sleep on the\nliving pillow of another's bosom.  Then Kamalamitra broke in\nimpatiently: Away with the fascinations, of all the women in the\nthree worlds, past, present, or to come!  Could they unite to form\nthe very body of the god of love, yet the eyes of Anushayin\u00ed, alone,\nwould, like the eye of the enemy of Kaudarpa[13], reduce them to\nashes.  Aye! those eyes, with their blue irresistible invitation,\nwould succeed in corrupting sages, where Menak\u00e1, Tilottam\u00e1[14] and\nthe rest had failed.\n\nThen his friend laughed in derision, and said: Boasting is useless,\nand in words, all men can do everything, and every woman is another\nRambh\u00e1[15].  Babble no more of her beauty, but come, let your paragon\nof a wife put her power to the proof.  For hard by here, in the wood\non the hillside, is an aged Sage, named P\u00e1pan\u00e1shana[16], whose\nausterities terrify even the gods.  He would be an admirable\ntouchstone for the eyes of this wonderful wife of yours, whose beauty\nexists, like a bubble, only on the stream of your words.\n\nAnd then, stung by the taunt, Kamalamitra exclaimed in wrath: Fool!\nif she does not turn him from his asceticism as easily as amber draws\nafter it stubble and grass, I will cut off my own head and cast it\ninto the Ganges.  Then his friend laughed again, and said: Do nothing\nrash, thou art not Daksha[17]: once gone, thy head can never be\nrestored.  But Kamalamitra hurried away to find Anushayin\u00ed.  And he\nfound her in the garden by the lotus pool, and told her of his brag,\nand said: Come instantly, and make the experiment, and vindicate the\npower of those wonderful eyes of thine, and my own faith in them,\nwithout delay.  For I burn to convict that foolish sceptic of his\nfolly, by ocular demonstration.\n\nThen Anushayin\u00ed said slowly: Dear husband, thou wert angry, and\ntherefore indiscreet, and I fear, lest by doing evil we may bring on\nourselves punishment.  For expiation follows guilt, as surely as\nOrion treads on the heels of Rohini[18].  There is sin and danger in\nthis rash experiment.  And now it will be better for us not to\nventure upon the verge of a precipice, over which we may both fall,\ninto irreparable disaster.\n\nBut as she spoke, her eyes rested on Kamalamitra, and bewildered him,\nand destroyed the persuasion of her words.  For he heard nothing that\nshe said, but was full of the blindness of passion, and more than\never convinced of the omnipotence of her beauty.  And so, seeing that\nshe could not turn him from his will, Anushayin\u00ed gave in, and yielded\nto him as to her deity.  Nay, in the interior of her heart she\nrejoiced, to find that she could not dissuade him, for she was filled\nwith curiosity herself, to see whether in truth her beauty would\nprevail over the ascetic, though she trembled for the consequences.\nAlas! where beauty, and curiosity, and youth, and self-will, and\nintoxication combine, like a mad elephant, where is the cotton thread\nof self-control?\n\nThen those two lovers kissed each other passionately, like travellers\nwho have been separated for a year.  And yet they knew not that they\nwere doing so for the last time.  And then they went together to the\nforest, to find that old ascetic.  And hand-in-hand they rambled\nabout, like a pair of Love's arrows in human form[19], till they\npenetrated to the very heart of that wood.  And there on a sudden\nthey came upon that old sage, and saw him standing, plunged in\nmeditation, motionless as a tree.  And round him the ants had built\nup their hills, and his beard and hair trailed from his head, like\ncreepers, and ran down along the ground, and were covered with\nleaves: and over his withered limbs played a pair of lizards, like\nliving emeralds.  And he looked straight before him, with great eyes\nthat mirrored everything, but saw nothing, clear and unfathomable and\nstill, like mountain tarns in which all the fish are asleep.\n\nAnd Kamalamitra and Anushayin\u00ed looked at him awhile in silence, and\nthen at each other, and trembled, for they knew that they were\nstaking their souls.  But as he wavered, the thought of his friend's\nderision came back into Kamalamitra's mind, and filled him with\nanger.  And he said to Anushayin\u00ed: Advance, and let this old\n_muni_[20] see you, and I will mark the result.\n\nSo Anushayin\u00ed went forward, obeying his command, and stepped over the\nleaves with feet lighter than themselves, till she stood in front of\nthe sage.  And when she saw that he did not move, she raised herself\non tiptoe to look into his eyes, saying to herself: Possibly he is\ndead.  And she looked into those eyes, and saw there nothing save two\nimages of herself, like two incarnations of timidity, that seemed to\nsay to her as it were: Beware!  And as she stood there, trembling in\nthe swing of uncertainty, Kamalamitra watched her with ecstasy, and\nlaughed to himself; and said: Certainly that old _muni_ is no longer\nalive, for otherwise she would have reached his soul through the door\nof his eyes, were it down in the lower world.\n\nSo as they stood there, waiting, gradually that old sage came to\nhimself: for he felt that his meditations were being disturbed by\nsomething or other.  And he looked, and saw Anushayin\u00ed standing\nbefore him like the new moon at the close of day, a pure form of\nexquisite beauty[21], a crystal without a flaw, tinged with the\ncolour of heaven.  And instantly, by the power of his own mystical\nmeditation, he divined the whole truth, and the exact state of the\ncase.  And he cast at that wayward beauty a glance, sorrowful as that\nof a deer, yet terrible as a thunderbolt: and immediately courage\nfled from her soul, and strength from her knees, and she sank to the\nground with drooping head, like a lotus broken by the wind.\n\nBut Kamalamitra rushed forward, and caught her in his arms.  Then as\nthey stood together, the old ascetic spoke and cursed them, saying\nslowly: Irreverent lovers, now shall that beauty which occasioned\nthis insolence meet with its appropriate reward.  Descend now, ye\nguilty ones, into mortal wombs, and suffer in the lower world the\npangs of separation, till ye have purged away your guilt in the fire\nof human sorrow.\n\nThen hearing the doom of separation, wild with grief they fell at his\nfeet, and implored him, saying: Fix at least a term to the curse, and\na period to our pain.  And he said again: When one of you shall slay\nthe other, the curse shall end.\n\nThen those two unhappy lovers looked at each other in mute despair.\nAnd they drew in that instant from each other's eyes a deep draught\nof the nectar of mutual contemplation, as if to sustain them in their\npilgrimage over the terrible sea of separation, saying as it were to\neach other, but in vain[22]: Remember me!  Then all of a sudden they\ndisappeared and went, like flashes of lightning, somewhere else.\n\n\nBut Maheshwara, from his seat on Kail\u00e1s, saw them go, for as fate\nwould have it, he chanced to be looking in that direction.  And\ngrasping the whole truth by mystical intuition[23], he remembered his\nboon to the Spirit of the Air, and he said to himself: Now has the\nfuture which I foresaw become the present[24], and the blue eyes of\nAnushayin\u00ed have produced a catastrophe.  But I must not leave her\nlovely body to the play of chance, for it has in it something of my\nown divinity.  And Kamalamitra, after all, was not very much to\nblame.  For he was bewildered by my glory, reflected in her eyes.  So\nI am the culprit, who is responsible for this state of affairs: and\nso I must look after this pair of lovers.  Moreover, I have a mind to\namuse myself with their adventures[25].\n\nSo after considering awhile, that Master Yogi took a lotus, and\nplacing it on the earth in a distant sea, it became an island.  And\nhe made in it, by his magic power, an earthly copy of a heavenly\ntype, of a nature known to himself alone, for the future to unfold.\nAnd having completed his arrangements, he allowed the chain of events\nto take its course.\n\nBut the old sage P\u00e1pan\u00e1shana, when those two lovers had disappeared,\nremained in the forest alone.  And their images forsook the mirror of\nhis eyes, and faded away from his mind, like the shadow of a cloud\ntravelling over the surface of a great lake, and vanished, and were\nutterly forgotten.\n\n\n\n[1] For Ganesha's trunk is usually smeared with vermilion.  The other\ndeity is, of course, Shiwa.  [2] '_The lover of the lotus_,' i.e. the\nSun.  _Mitra_ is also one of his names.  [_Kam-_ rhymes with _drum_.]\n\n[3] i.e. Shiwa.  Um\u00e1 is his wife.\n\n[4] This is a sort of Hindoo _fa\u00e7on de parler_: it must not be\nsupposed to make him any the older.\n\n[5] _nila_.  As this colour is the keynote of the story, it should be\nobserved, that it is a deep, intense blue, inclining to black,\nessentially associated in Hindoo literature with the moon-crested\nGod, peacocks, and the lotus.\n\n[6] Characters in the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata.\n\n[7] _digambara_.\n\n[8] '_a devoted wife_.'  But the word has another technical\nphilosophical significance: it connotes evil, clinging to the soul by\nreason of sin in a former birth, and begetting the necessity of\nexpiation in another body.\n\n[9] _Kuwalayamayamjagat_.  When I was young, sings Bhartrihari, the\nwhole world seemed to me to be made of woman (_n\u00e1rimayam_).\n\n[10] Death, who is represented with a noose (_p\u00e1sha_).\n\n[11] Love, whose weapon is his bow.\n\n[12] There is here an untranslateable play on the word _bhoga_: which\nmeans both the coil of a snake and enjoyment.\n\n[13] Alluding to the legend that Shiwa annihilated the god of love,\nwho was endeavouring to inflame him, by a fiery glance from his third\neye.  Love's sacred fire met in this case, for once, with an element\nmore potent than his own.\n\n[14] The legend of S. Antony is but a western echo of the stories of\nthese nymphs, whom the jealous gods employed as weapons to destroy\nthe virtue of sages whose accumulated asceticism was becoming\n_mountainous_ and dangerous.  Like the Devil, and long before him,\nthey baited the hook with a pretty woman.\n\n[15] See the R\u00e1mayan, book 1.\n\n[16] '_destroyer of guilt_.'\n\n[17] Whose true head was cut off and replaced by that of a ram.\n\n[18] An astronomical simile: the ninth and tenth signs of the lunar\nzodiac.\n\n[19] They were not human, but semi-divine; still, it is impossible to\nexpress the idea of incarnation except in terms of humanity.\n\n[20] '_man of silence_,' which, according to Kalidas and Bhartrihari,\nis the golden rule whether for fools or sages.\n\n[21] _Suskam\u00e1shesh\u00e1_: an incomparable expression, meaning, as applied\nto the thin streak of the new moon at dusk, that everything of it was\ngone, except its beauty: _venustas, et pr\u0153terea nihil_!\n\n[22] Because the former birth is always forgotten.  But see the\nsequel.\n\n[23] This power of gods and ascetics of a high order, frequently\nalluded to, reposes upon _yoga_, i.e. intense concentration, which is\nthe secret of P\u00e1tanjali.  There is a kernel of truth in it, after all.\n\n[24] _Time_ is another name of Shiwa.\n\n[25] The whole creation, according to Manti (i. 80) is the sport of\nthe deity.\n\n\n\n\nNight\n\nA SLEEP AND A DREAM.\n\n\n\nI.\n\nA Lotus of the Day\n\nBut Anushayin\u00ed[1], when she disappeared in the forest, fell down to\nearth like a falling star, and entered the womb of the favourite wife\nof the King of Indir\u00e1laya[2], and was born after the manner of\nmortals as his daughter.  And at that moment she lit up the birth\nchamber with the radiance diffused from her body, which put the lamps\nto shame.  And the nurses and waiting women were astonished, for\nwonderful to say! the lids of the child's eyes were fringed with long\nblack lashes, looking like rain-clouds hanging low to hide the rising\nmoon.  And suddenly those lashes rose like a curtain, and there came\nfrom beneath them a flood of blue colour, which pervaded the room\nlike the odour of camphor and sandal-wood made visible to the eye,\nand overcame the senses of all that stood by, till they were within a\nlittle of swooning away.  And like men lying on their backs and\ngazing into the depths of the sky, they felt as it were enveloped in\nthe colour of heaven, and lost their perception of mundane affairs.\nFor though they knew it not, they were looking at the reflection of\nthe glory of the moon-crested god.\n\nSo they all stood round in silence, watching the child's eyes.  And\nat last, the King, and his ministers, and his physicians and\nastrologers, drew a long breath, and looked at each other in\namazement.  And the prime-minister said: King, this is a wonderful\nthing.  For these eyes are the eyes, not of a child, but of a\nsage[3], or rather, of a god.  And surely this is no mere mortal\nmaiden, but rather some deity, or portion of a deity, smitten by a\ncurse, and doomed thereby to descend for a period into this lower\nworld, to expiate awhile sins committed in a former birth.  For such\nthings often come about,  And beyond a doubt your Majesty is\nfavoured, in being chosen by the deity to be the means of his\nincarnation.  Then hearing this speech of his minister, whose words\nwere always suited to the events, the King was excessively delighted.\nAnd he celebrated the birth of his daughter with extraordinary\nmagnificence, and gave gold and villages to Brahmans and the poor.\nAnd taking counsel with his astrologers and Brahman sages skilled in\nnames and their applications, he gave to his daughter the auspicious\nname of Shr\u00ed[4].  For he said: Her eyes are like lotuses, and like\nthe pools in which they dwell: and surely they are the very echo of\nthe eyes of the Goddess of Beauty when she rose from the sea, and lay\nin her blue lotus cradle, lapped by the foam of which she was\ncomposed, and gazing at the wondering waves with eyes that mocked\nthem, and robbed them of their hue.\n\nThen time passed away, and the years with the seasons followed each\nother like caravans over the desert, and old age and grey hair came\nand took up their dwelling at the wrinkled root of the King's ear.\nAnd meanwhile Shr\u00ed grew from a child into a girl, and at length the\ndawn of her womanhood broke.  And like the horns of the waxing moon,\nher limbs rounded and swelled into the very perfect orb of supreme\nloveliness, and she became as it were the very salt of the sea of\nbeauty[5], inspiring in all who drank of it insatiable thirst, and an\nintolerable craving for the water of the blue lakes of her eyes.  And\nat last there came a day when the King her father looked at her, and\nsaid to himself: The fruit is ripe: and now it is time that it were\nplucked and eaten.\n\nSo he went to the apartments of the women, to find her mother, his\nprincipal Queen, Madirekshan\u00e1[6].  But when she learned the object of\nhis coming, the Queen said: _Aryaputra_[7], it is useless.  For our\ndaughter will not even listen to the word husband, much less undergo\nthe thing.  The King said: What is this?  Should the cornfield refuse\nthe plough, or a maiden refuse to be married?  Is she not now of ripe\nage, and does not a grown-up maiden in the house bring upon herself\nand her relations infamy in this world and the next?  Madirekshana\nsaid: Speak to her yourself, and persuade her to it if you can.  For\nof her own accord she told me, that her marriage was a thing not to\nbe thought of, even in a dream.\n\nSo the King sent for his daughter, to question her himself.\n\nAnd after a while, Shr\u00ed came in, undulating as she moved like a\nswan[8], and swaying like a flower waving in the wind: for her waist\ncould be grasped by the fist, and her bosom was glorious, like the\nswell of an ocean wave.  And like a child she smiled at her father[9]\nwith parted lips and half-shut eyes, casting before her through the\nnet of their lashes the magical charm of the colour of a wet lotus:\nand her girdle jingled as if with joy, while the flashing jewels with\nwhich she was covered all over changed colour, as if with envy at\nbeing outshone by the play[10] of her eyes.  And the old King looked\nat her with pride and wonder and delight: and he laughed to himself,\nand said: Wonderful is the cunning of the Creator, and\nincomprehensible the mystery of a woman's beauty!  For I am old, and\nI am her father, and yet I feel before her like a domestic servant in\nthe presence of a ruler of the world.  Surely she would drive a young\nman into madness and ecstasy.  And did the Creator, forsooth! form\nthis incarnation of the intoxication of woman to no purpose?  Surely\nshe is a husband's ideal correlative in human form!  And then he said\nto her: My daughter, it is high time that you were married: for an\nunmarried daughter is a scandal in her father's house.\n\nThen said Shr\u00ed: Dear father, do not speak thus.  Let me live and die\na maiden, for I do not wish to be married[11].  The King said:\nDaughter, what is this that you are saying?  Is not a husband the\nvery object of your birth?  Shr\u00ed said: Do not even dream of a husband\nfor me.  And there is a reason for this: for I am different from\nother maidens.  And hearing this, the King was perplexed.  And he\nlooked at Shr\u00ed under his brows, and said to himself: She speaks\ntruth.  Certainly this daughter of mine, if she be mine[12], is not\nlike other maidens.  For who ever saw her equal in beauty, or who\never heard of a maiden objecting to be married[13]?  Or was my\nminister right, and is she really some deity in disguise?\n\nSo day after day he continued to urge her and argue with her.  But at\nlast, finding that his efforts to move her were as vain as if he were\ntrying to pierce a diamond with a cotton thread, he exclaimed in\ndismay: Surely my crimes in a former birth were numerous and\nappalling, seeing that their fruit is a daughter, whose obstinate and\nunintelligible prejudice against a husband runs counter to the nature\nof woman, and will be the means of destroying my salvation.  Then at\nlast Shr\u00ed said: Dear father, do not be angry, and I will tell you the\ntruth.  Know that I, too, wish for a husband, but only for one\nhusband, and no other.  Then said the King: And who, then, is that\nhusband?  Shr\u00ed said: I do not know.  But he will come to claim me,\nfrom the Land of the Lotus of the Sun[14].  And where, said the King,\nis the Land of the Lotus of the Sun?  Shr\u00ed said: I cannot tell.  But\nin a dream I saw a lotus fall from heaven, and I heard a divine voice\nsaying to me: Do not hurry, but wait: for there shall come to you a\nhusband, from the Land of the Lotus of the Sun.  For he was your\nhusband in a former birth, and you shall know him by a sign.  Then\nthe King said: And what is the sign?  Shr\u00ed said: I may not tell, for\nit is known only to the Deity and me.  But now, either abandon my\nmarriage, or if you can, find me a man who has seen the Land of the\nLotus of the Sun, of caste becoming a king's daughter, and he shall\nbe my husband.  For him only will I marry, and none other.\n\nAnd when the King heard this, he was astonished, and sat silent,\nlooking at Shr\u00ed.  And he said to himself: This is a strange story,\nand the conduct of this mysterious daughter of mine is inscrutable.\nWhat is this Land of the Lotus of the Sun?  Is it a fancy, the\ncapricious dream of a girl?  Or does the dream really point to a\nprevious existence?  And he thought for a while, and then he said\nagain: Perhaps it is better to do as she says, and endeavour to\ndiscover a man who has seen that Land.  For where is the harm?  For\neven if he is found, there will always be time to consider.  And,\nmoreover, in this way it may be that she will obtain a husband,\nwhereas she will certainly not get married in any other.  Better that\nshe should get a husband, no matter how, no matter who, than remain a\nmaiden to destroy us all.\n\nThen he dismissed his daughter, and summoned his chamberlains, and\nsaid to them: Get criers, and send them through the city, and let\nthem proclaim by beat of drum: That any high caste man, who has seen\nthe Land of the Lotus of the Sun, shall share my kingdom, and marry\nmy daughter.  And his chamberlains wondered at hearing the order.\nBut they went immediately, and told the criers the order of the King.\n\n\n\n[1] That is, her soul, as distinguished from her body: that part of\nher which, according to Plato and the Bhagwad-Git\u00e1 (more logical than\nmodern theologians) _is never born and never dies_.\n\n[2] _The home of Shr\u00ed_, i.e. a blue lotus, which is so called because\nthe goddess Shr\u00ed appeared floating in one at the creation.\n\n[3] _sh\u00e1nta_: one who has quelled the passions and attained peace.\nOf such, Shiwa is the chief.  But the minister drew his bow at a\nventure, and knew not how he hit the mark.\n\n[4] Hence the name of the city, above.\n\n[5] Beauty and salt, in the original, are denoted by the same word.\n\n[6] That is, 'a woman with sweet seductive eyes.'\n\n[7] A pretty term employed by ladies in addressing their lords: 'son\nof an _arya_, a gentleman.'  It has no English equivalent.\n\n[8] The old Hindoos had a special admiration and a special term\n(_hansagamin\u00ed_) for a woman who walked like a swan.\n\n[9] There is here an untranslateable play on the word kamalah\u00e1sa,\nwhich means both _the opening of a lotus bud_, and an _irresistible\nsmile_.\n\n[10] _wyatikara_, a word expressive of the _varying_ lustre or\n_wavering_ coruscation of jewels.\n\n[11] cf. Callimachus: d\u00f3s moi parthen\u00eden ai\u00f3n ion, appa, phyl\u00e1ssein.\n\n[12] This touch arises from the beautiful word for a daughter,\n\u00e1tmaj\u00e1, i.e. _she that is born from yourself_.\n\n[13] A case, perhaps, not absolutely unknown in the west: though\nbeauty, like a fortress, must always like to be flattered by a siege.\nBut in the land of the Hindoos, marriage is like being born or dying,\na matter of course, a thing necessary, inevitable, essential, _quod\nsemper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus_.\n\n[14] There is, in the original here, a _nuance_ not susceptible of\ndirect translation.  According to the Hindoos, lotuses are divided\ninto those of the Day and Night, whose lovers are the Sun and Moon.\nThe Lotus in question is a Sun-lotus '_between the Twilights_,' i.e.,\nburied in night, and deprived of the presence of the Sun.  An\nallusion to the title of the story is thus introduced.  But all this\ncannot be expressed in English, as it can in Sanskrit, by a single\nword.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nBy Beat of Drum\n\nSo the criers went through the streets of the capital, beating drums\nand crying aloud: _Whatsoever high-caste man has been to the Land of\nthe Lotus of the Sun, let him come to the King: he shall share the\nKing's kingdom, and marry the King's daughter_.  And hearing the\nproclamation, all the citizens and strangers in the city marvelled as\nthey listened.  For the fame of the beauty of the King's daughter had\ngone out into the three worlds.  And buzzing like bees, they thronged\naround the criers, and ran up and down, everybody asking everybody\nelse: What is this Land of the Lotus of the Sun?  Where is it, or who\nhas seen it?  And a great uproar arose in the streets of the city,\nand they were full of noise and shouting: and the news was carried\ninto the neighbouring kingdoms, and immediately crowds of people\npoured into Indir\u00e1laya from every part of M\u00e1lw\u00e1 and the Deckan and\nthe North, and every quarter of the world, and together with the\nmerchants and the working castes, who all abandoned their ordinary\nbusiness, gathered in knots and stood about, asking eagerly for news\nof that Lotus Land, and its nature, and its locality, and its\npeculiarities.  But no one could be found who had ever even heard of\nit, much less seen it.  So day by day the proclamation sounded in the\nstreets: and all day long the city was full of the din of shouting\ncriers and beaten drums, and all night long sleep fled from the eyes\nof the citizens, as if in disgust at the noise that they made by day.\nBut all was in vain: for not a man could they find, nor did anyone\ncome forward to say: I have seen that Lotus Country: give me the\nreward.\n\nAnd at last the citizens became enraged, alike with the King, and his\ndaughter, and the Land of the Lotus, and themselves.  And seeing\nthis, the old King fell sick with anxiety: and he said to himself: My\npretty daughter is as cunning as she is beautiful, and beyond a doubt\nthis is some trick devised by her, to appease me, and avoid her\nbugbear of a husband, and befool us all.  And now I fear that in\ntheir fury my subjects may break out into revolt, and refuse to pay\ntaxes, or depose me.  Out on my daughter and her blue eyes, and the\ncunning of women and their crooked hearts!  Is there any such land in\nthe world, as this Land of the Lotus of the Sun, of which in all my\ndominions, haunted by merchants and strangers from every quarter of\nthe earth, no one has ever even so much as heard?\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nAn Eclipse of the Sun\n\nNow Kamalamitra, when he was separated from Anushayin\u00ed by the curse\nof the ascetic, fell down to earth, and was born as the son of a King\nof the Solar Race in a distant country.  And his father gave him the\nname of Umra-Singh[1], for the astrologers said: He will live on\nearth like a lion, and run over it like his rival in the sky.  And\nwhen he grew up, there was no one in that country who could match him\nin riding, or wrestling, or swordsmanship, or any other martial\nexercise: so that the people said of him: He looks like the very soul\nof the nature of a Kshatriya that has assumed a body suited to its\ndeeds.  Surely he is an incarnation of Kum\u00e1ra[2], come down to earth\nfor the destruction of the King's enemies.  And the women flocked\naround him like flies about honey, for their hearts were trampled to\npieces, like lotuses, by the wild-elephant of his glorious youth, and\ntheir souls were intoxicated with the nectar of the beauty of his\nfigure, and followed him about like captives chained in rows.  But\nUmra-Singh laughed at them all, and even outdid the moon-crested\ngod[3], in that he drank continually the deadly poison of the ocean\nof their seductions, without even staining his throat.\n\nThen one day his father said to him: Come, now, I have arranged your\nmarriage with the daughter of my most powerful enemy: so shall we\nbecome friends by the method of conciliation.  Umra-Singh said: Find\nanother bridegroom, for I have married my sharp sword.  So his father\nwas annoyed, and said: What is this folly, and whence can I procure\nanother bridegroom?  But Umra-Singh was silent.  And three times his\nfather repeated his words.  Then after a while, Umra-Singh said:\nBridegroom or no bridegroom, I will not marry anybody but the lady of\nmy dream.  Then said his father: Who, then, is this lady of your\ndream?  Umra-Singh said: I do not know.  But every other month, on\nthe last day of the dark fortnight, there comes to me in a dream a\nvision of a woman, floating on a pool of white lotuses, in a boat of\nsandal with silver oars.  But who she is I cannot tell, and her face\nI can never see, for it is always turned away.\n\nThen his father began to laugh, and deride him.  But Umra-Singh cared\nno more for the stream of his derision than Maheshwara for the Ganges\nwhen it fell on his head.  Then his father said: Dismiss this\ndelusion, and prepare for the wedding: for I have arranged the\nceremonies, and appointed the day.  But Umra-Singh laughed, and said:\nMarry her thyself: for I tell thee, I will not marry anybody, but the\nlady of my dream.  Then his father flew into a rage, and summoned his\nguards, and threw the prince[4] into prison, saying to himself: He\nshall stay there, with his dream to keep him company, till he learns\nto obey.  But Umra-Singh persuaded his gaolers to let him escape, for\nthe subjects loved him more than his father.  And he fled away by\nnight into another country, abandoning his royal position for the\nsake of his dream.\n\nAnd then he went from city to city, and from one country to another,\neluding the pursuit of the agents sent after him by his father to\nbring him back, till at last he came to Indir\u00e1lay\u00e1.  And he dived\ninto a disreputable quarter of that city, like a frog into a well,\nand remained there disgusted with life and his relations, plunging\ninto dissipation to drown his grief, and surrounded by gamblers and\noutcasts, counting the whole world as a straw, supporting himself on\nhis own courage, and his dream.  And little by little all he had\nmelted away like snow in the sun of his generosity, or was swallowed\nup by the ocean of greedy gamblers, among whom he scattered it with\nan open hand, asking, like his ancestor[5], nothing in return.  And\nat last, being reduced to extremity, clad in garments worn and\nragged, which like clouds vainly obscuring the Lord of the Day, could\nnot hide, but rather increased, the beauty of his form, with nothing\nleft to eat or drink, he determined to abandon the body.  So taking\ndown his sword from the wall, and holding it in his hand, he went out\nof his wretched lodging, saying to himself: Death is better than\ndishonour and insignificance, hunger and the loathing of life: for\nwhat is death but the beginning of another life, which cannot be\nworse than this one, be it what it may?  And who knows but that I may\nmeet her in the next life whom I dream of in this?  For she who is\nbut a dream now, may be a reality in another birth, and I may\ndiscover that lotus pool, waiting for me in another life.  Therefore\nnow I will go outside the city wall, and find some deserted garden,\nand there I will cut off my own head, and offer it up to Durg\u00e1 as a\nsacrifice.\n\nAnd as he stood at the door of the house, pondering which way he\nshould go, there fell on his ear, for the hundredth time, the sound\nof the beating of drums.  And he listened, and heard the criers\ncrying: _Whatsoever high-caste man has been to the Land of the Lotus\nof the Sun, let him come to the King: he shall share the King's\nkingdom, and marry the King's daughter_.  And Umra-Singh laughed, and\nsaid to himself: What! are they still looking for a man, who has seen\nthe Land of the Lotus of the Sun?  And how, then, did they know that\nthere was such a land to be seen?\n\nAnd then on a sudden he started, as if he had been bitten by a snake.\nAnd he struck his hand on his sword, and exclaimed: Ha!  But if\nnobody has ever seen that land, and no one knows anything about it,\nthen, if one should come and say: Lo: I have seen it: who could\ndiscern whether he was speaking the truth or telling a lie?  For who\ncan compare the description with a reality which neither he nor\nanyone else ever saw?  So what is to hinder me from going to the King\nand saying: I have seen that Lotus Land, and now, give me the reward?\nFor here I am, about to put myself to death; and what greater evil\ncan befall me at the hands of the King, even though he should\ndiscover the deceit?  And yet, how can he?  For who knows what that\nland is like, or even where it is?  But if, on the contrary, I get\ncredit, then I shall obtain, not only this far-famed daughter, for\nwhom I care nothing, but also the resources of his kingdom; and with\nthem I can equip an army, and go and compel my father to restore me\nto my position.  So where is the harm? or rather, is it not pure\ngain, and no loss, to make the attempt and abide the result, whether\nI live or die?\n\nThen instantly, without hesitation, he went up to the criers, and\nsaid to them: Cease your crying, and take me to the King, for I have\nseen that Lotus Land.  But the criers, when they heard what he said,\ncould not believe their ears, and almost abandoned the body from\nexcess of joy.  For they were almost dead from exhaustion, and\ncontinual shouting all day long.  And they danced like peacocks at\nthe sight of the first cloud in the rainy season, and caught him in\ntheir arms, holding him as if they were afraid he would escape, to\ncarry him away, like a precious jewel, to the King.  And the news ran\nthrough the city like fire in a dry wood: There has been found a man\nwho has seen the Land of the Lotus of the Sun.  And a vast crowd of\npeople ran from every street, and pressed around him, and accompanied\nhim to the palace, and stood before it, tossing like the sea, while\nthe guards took him in to the King.\n\nBut when the King heard the news, he wept for joy.  And Umra-Singh\nseemed in his eyes like a draught of nectar, and like the fulfilment\nof all his desires in bodily form.  And he said to him: O thou\nunspeakably delightful son-in-law that shall be, hast thou really set\neyes on that accursed Land of the Lotus of the Sun?  And Umra-Singh\nsaid boldly: Yes, I have seen it, and I know it well.  Then\nimmediately the King in his impatience ran himself to his daughter's\napartments, and exclaimed: The bridegroom is found, by the favour of\nthe Lord of Obstacles.  Here is a Rajpoot who has seen the Land of\nthe Lotus of the Sun.  So prepare for the marriage without delay.\n\nThen said Shr\u00ed: Dear father, there is no hurry in this matter.  And\nhow do you know that this man is speaking the truth, or is not,\nrather, some impostor, who only wishes to secure me and half your\nkingdom, by falsely asserting that he has seen, what in fact he never\nhas seen.  For the world is full of such crafty rogues, who go about,\nlike cranes, fishing in the wealth of Kings, like pools.  Bring him\ntherefore first to me, to examine him; and thereafter we shall see,\nwhether it is time to prepare the marriage ceremonies, or not.\n\nSo the King said: Be it so.  And he sent for Umra-Singh, and brought\nhim into the presence of Shr\u00ed.\n\nAnd Shr\u00ed looked and saw him standing, sword in hand, tall, and lean\nin the waist like a hungry lion, with shoulders like those of a bull,\nand long arms, and all the royal marks of a King.  And she would have\ndespised him, for his rags and his nakedness, and yet for all that\nshe would, she could not, but felt herself drawn towards him against\nher will.  For her heart was stirred within her at the sight of him,\nand dim suggestions of that former birth, which she had forgotten,\nstruggled in her soul, and strove to rise up out of its depths.  And\nshe stood, gazing at him in silence, with eyes that looked at him but\ndid not see him, like those of one that listens to the tones of a\nlong-forgotten voice, sounding in the hall of memory, and awakening\nlonging and fond regret.  And as she gazed, she poured over him a\nflood of blue colour out of her wondrous doubtful eyes.\n\nAnd Umra-Singh looked at her, and the whole world vanished from his\nsight in a mass of blue.  And he reeled under the blow of her\nglances, which struck him mercilessly like a club, and time and space\nfled from his soul, which was filled with colour, and tears, and\nlaughter and pain, and he gasped for breath.  For the sight of her\nhalf-remembered eyes clutched his heart, and stopped its beating like\nan iron band.  And in that moment there rose before him the\ndream-woman of the lotus pool, and he knew that it was Shr\u00ed.\n\nSo they two stood there, like pictures painted on a wall, gazing at\neach other, and groping in vain for recollection in the darkness of\noblivion[6], like shadows in a dream.  And then, after a while, Shr\u00ed\ncame to herself.  And she said slowly: So thou hast seen the Land of\nthe Lotus of the Sun?  Then mention its peculiarities, and tell me\nhow thou didst arrive at it.\n\nBut Umra-Singh stammered and hesitated.  For her eyes had deprived\nhim of his reason, and he could think of nothing else.  And all his\naudacity had vanished, and become timidity, and he faltered, and\nspoke, not knowing what he said, with a voice that refused its\noffice, and sounded in his ears like that of another man.  And he\nsaid: Lady, I went I know not how, and wandered I know not how long,\namong wastes and deserts and mountains I know not how high, till I\ncame to a land I know not where, called the Land of the Lotus of the\nSun, I know not why[7].\n\nBut as he spoke, the spell was broken, and Shr\u00ed woke as it were from\na dream.  And she saw before her only a ragged Rajpoot, stumbling in\nhis tale, and abashed before her, and unable to support his knavery\neven by a clever lie.  And she was ashamed, and angry with herself,\nand as she listened, she was suddenly seized with a fit of laughter.\nAnd she exclaimed: Hark! hark! to this high-caste hero; listen to his\nlay of a Lotus Land!  He went he knew not where, and did he knew not\nwhat, and began at the beginning, and ended at the end.  So she\nlaughed and mocked him, while he stood before her as it were in a\nswoon, hearing only the music of her voice, and quailing like a\ncoward before the fire in her scornful eyes.\n\nThen suddenly Shr\u00ed clapped her hands in his face, and exclaimed: Dost\nthou hear, or art thou deaf as well as dumb?  Art thou a Rajpoot, and\nyet could'st thou not find courage enough to carry out thy imposition\nto the end?  Strange! that such a body could be chosen by the Creator\nas the receptacle of such a soul.  And she turned to the King, and\nsaid: Dear Father, it is as I said, and as you see, this fellow is\nbut a rogue.  Put him out, therefore; and yet, do him no harm.  For\nthough he is a knave, yet he is a handsome knave, and deserves rather\ncontempt and laughter, than punishment and blows.\n\nThen the King said to his guards: Take this impostor, and thrust him\nout into the street.  So the guards seized Umra-Singh, who offered no\nresistance, and threw him out into the street, raining upon him as he\nwent a shower of kicks and blows.  And immediately the criers went\nround the city as before, beating drums and crying aloud: _Whatsoever\nhigh-caste man has been to the Land of the Lotus of the Sun, let him\ncome to the King: he shall share the King's kingdom, and marry the\nKing's daughter_.\n\n\n\n[1] The name is _Amarasinha_.  But this is so certain to be a\nstumbling-block in an English mouth, that I have spelt it as it would\nbe pronounced by a Hindoo.  (_Um_ as in _drum_.) It means\n'_lion-god_' or '_god-lion_,' a name suited to a king of the line of\nthe Sun.\n\n[2] The War-god.\n\n[3] Because, though Shiwa drank the _k\u00e1lakuta_ or deadly sea-poison,\nwith impunity, still it left its mark on his throat, and dyed it blue.\n\n[4] A _rajpoot_ means only _the son of a king_, and it is to be\nobserved that there were rajpoots in India long before the present\n'Rajpoots' ever came there.\n\n[5] i.e. the Sun.  There are double meanings in this period,\ncomparing him to the Sun.\n\n[6] _adrishta_: a peculiar technical term, meaning something that has\nits roots in the unseen circumstances of a former birth.\n\n[7] No translator can give the alliterative jingle of the _vath\u00e1s_\nand _tath\u00e1s_, _vads_ and _tads_ of this and the answer of Shr\u00ed below.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nInspiration\n\nBut Umra-Singh lay in the street, more like a dead than a living man,\ncovered with bruises and bereft of sense.  And the people crowded\nround him, jeering and scouting and pointing at him, and giving him\nblows and kicks.  And he looked in the midst of those base mockers\nlike a black antelope smitten by the hunters with a mortal wound, and\nsurrounded by a troop of chattering monkeys.  Then by and by those\nscoffers left him lying, and went every man his way, for the sun was\ngoing down.  And after a while, he came to himself, and rose up,\nthough with difficulty, from the ground, and wandered away with\nstumbling feet, till he came to a tank in a deserted quarter, and lay\ndown on its brink to rest.  And sore though he was in all his limbs,\nhe never felt the pain of his body: but his eyes were dazed with the\nblue glory of the bitter scorn of the eyes of Shr\u00ed, and the sound of\nher voice and her laughter rang in his ears, and in his heart was\nshame.  So he lay long, gazing at the image of Shr\u00ed as it floated\nbefore him, and stung his soul like the teeth of a serpent, and yet\nsoothed it like sandal, while the moon rose in the sky.\n\nAnd then suddenly he sat up, and looked round.  And he saw the tank,\nand the trees, and the moon's image in the water, and remembered\nwhere he was, and all that had occurred.  And he sighed deeply, and\nsaid to himself: Woe is me!  I have, like a dishonest gambler, cast\nmy die, and lost the game.  And now, I have gained no kingdom and no\nKing's daughter, but only blows and shame.  Alas! no sooner had I\nfound my dream than again I lost her, through the terrible operation\nof sins committed in a former birth.  So now, nothing remains but to\ndo as quickly as possible what I was about to do before I went to the\npalace, and put myself, in very truth, to death.  For life seemed\nunendurable, before I had found the woman of my dream: but now it is\nworse by far, since I have found her only to become in her eyes a\nthing of scorn, more horrible than a hundred deaths.\n\nAnd he took his sword, and felt the sharpness of its edge, and put it\nto his throat.  And as it touched his skin, at that moment he heard\nin the silence of the night the voice of a warder, singing as he went\nhis round upon the city wall: _Whatsoever high-caste man has been to\nthe Land of the Lotus of the Sun, let him come to the King: he shall\nshare the King's kingdom and marry the King's daughter_.  And the\nsword fell from his hand, and he sprang to his feet, and exclaimed:\nWhat! she is for the man who has seen the Land of the Lotus, and here\nam I, a Rajpoot of the Race of the Sun, dreaming of death by this\nmoonlit tank, while the Land of the Lotus is yet unfound!  Now will I\nfind that Lotus Country, be it where it may, and then come back and\nclaim her, not as I did before, in jest, but by the right of the seer\nand the seen.\n\nAnd instantly he picked up his sword, and threw it into the air.  And\nthe sword turned like a wheel, flashing in the moonlight, and fell\nback to the ground.  Then Umra-Singh took it up, and immediately went\nout of the city, making for the quarter pointed out like a finger by\nthe blade of his sword.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\nNightwalker\n\nAnd then as a black bee roves from flower to flower he wandered from\ncity to city, and from one country to another: and he went north and\neast and west and south, till the elephants of the eight quarters\nknew him as it were by sight.  Yet he never found anyone who could\ntell him his way, or had ever heard the name of the Land of the Lotus\nof the Sun.  And meanwhile the suns of the hot seasons burned him\nlike a furnace, and the cold seasons froze the blood in his veins,\nand the rains roared over his head like a wild-elephant, and at the\nlast, he said to himself: Now for thrice six seasons have I been\nseeking, and yet I know no more of my way to the Land of the Lotus\nthan I did before.  And undoubtedly, if such a Land exists in the\nworld, it can be known only to the birds of the air.  Therefore now I\nwill abandon the dwellings of men, and enter the Great Forest, for\nonly in this way will it ever be possible for me to discover a land\nof which no human being has ever heard.\n\nSo he went into the forest and proceeded onward, turning his face to\nthe south.  Then as he went the trees grew thicker and thicker, and\ntaller and taller, till they shut out the light of the sun.  And at\nlast there came a day when he looked before him, and saw only a\ndarkness like that of the mouth of death: and he looked behind him,\nand saw the light of evening glimmering a great way off, as if afraid\nto keep him company.  And as he went on slowly, feeling his way with\nthe point of his sword, suddenly in the darkness another face peered\ninto his own, and stuck out at him a long red tongue.  And Umra-Singh\nstarted back, and looked, and saw before him a root-eating\nWair\u00e1g\u00ed[1], clad in a coat of bark, with long hair, and nails like\nthe claws of a bird, and his legs and arms were bare, and his skin\nlike that on the foot of an elephant.\n\nThen said Umra-Singh: Father, what art thou doing here, and why dost\nthou stick out at me thy tongue?  The Wair\u00e1g\u00ed said: Son, what art\nthou doing here, in a wood full of nothing but trees and\nR\u00e1kshasas[2], and dark as the Hair of the Great God, of which it is\nan earthly copy?  Umra-Singh said: I am a Rajpoot who has quarrelled\nwith his relations, and I am looking for the Land of the Lotus of the\nSun.  Then said the Wair\u00e1g\u00ed: They are very few that wish to find that\nLotus Land; and fewer still who find it; fewest of all those, that\nhaving found it ever return.  Then Umra-Singh said, in astonishment:\nAnd dost thou know that Lotus Land?  Tell me how I must go to reach\nit.  Then the Wair\u00e1gi laughed, and said: Ha! ha!  Thou art one more\nready to ask than to answer questions: but I give nothing for\nnothing.  Know, that I also have all my life been looking, not for\none way only, but for three.  And now, if thou wilt tell me my three\nways, I will tell thee thine.\n\nThen said Umra-Singh: One for three is no bargain; but what, then,\nare thy lost ways?  The Wair\u00e1g\u00ed said: All my life I have tried to\ndiscover the Way of the World, and the Way of Woman, and the Way of\nEmancipation[3], and yet could never hit on the truth as to any one\nof them.  And this is a wonderful thing.  For anything characteristic\nof multitudes must be very common: and yet how can that which is\ncommon escape the notice of all?  Tell me, then, the Way of the\nWorld, and I will tell thee in return a third of thy way to the Land\nof the Lotus of the Sun.\n\nThen said Umra-Singh: Thou puttest a knotty question, and drivest a\nhard bargain; nevertheless, I will give thee an answer, for the sake\nof my own way and the blue eyes of Shr\u00ed.  Know, that this is the Way\nof the World.  There was formerly, on the banks of Ganges, an old\nempty temple of Shiwa.  And one night, in the rainy season, an old\nfemale ascetic entered the temple, to shelter herself from the storm.\nAnd just after her there came in an owl for the same purpose.  Now in\nthe roof of that temple there lived a number of the caste[4] of bats,\nthat never left the temple precincts, And seeing the owl, they said\nto the old woman: Who art thou, and what kind of animal is this?\nThen the old woman said: I am the Goddess Saraswat\u00ed, and this is the\npeacock on which I ride[5].  Then, the storm being over, that old\nimpostor went away.  But the owl, being pleased with the temple as a\nplace of residence, remained; and the bats paid it divine honours.\nThen some years afterwards, it happened, that a real peacock entered\nthe temple.  And the bats said to it: What kind of animal art thou?\nThe peacock said: I am a peacock.  The bats replied: Out on thee,\nthou impostor! what is this folly?  The peacock said: I am a peacock,\nthe son of a peacock, and the carriage of the Goddess Saraswat\u00ed is a\nhereditary office in our caste.  The bats said: Thou art a liar, and\nthe son of a liar; dost thou know better than the Goddess herself?\nAnd they drove the peacock out of the temple, and paid, as formerly,\nworship to the owl.\n\nThen said the Wair\u00e1g\u00ed: Rajpoot, thou hast opened my eyes.  Learn now\nfrom me a portion of thy own way.  And he lay down on the ground, and\nsuddenly abandoning the form of a hermit, became a weasel, which\nstuck out at Umra-Singh a long red tongue, and entered the ground by\na hole, and disappeared.  And as Umra-Singh stooped down to examine\nthe hole, he saw the Wair\u00e1g\u00ed again beside him in his old shape, save\nthat he continued to stick out of his mouth the weasel's tongue.  And\nhe said, angrily: What is this delusion of a weasel, and why dost\nthou stick out thy tongue?  Then said the Wair\u00e1g\u00ed: Ho! ho!  I have\nshown thee a way for a way, and one riddle for another.  And now,\ntell me the Way of a Woman, and learn yet another third of thy own\nroad.\n\nThen Umra-Singh said to himself: Surely this is no hermit, but a vile\nR\u00e1kshasa, who only seeks to delude me.  Nevertheless, I will give him\nan answer, for the sake of my way, and the blue light in the eyes of\nShr\u00ed.  And he said to the Wair\u00e1g\u00ed: Know, then, that the Way of a\nWoman is this: There dwelt long ago, in the Windhya forest, an old\nRishi.  And the gods, being jealous of his austerities, sent to\ninterrupt his devotions a heavenly nymph.  Then that old Rishi,\novercome by her beauty, yielded to the temptation, and had by her a\ndaughter.  But afterwards, repenting of his fall, he burned out his\neyes with a fiery cane, saying: Perish, ye causes of perishable\nillusions: and so became blind.  Then his daughter grew up alone with\nthat old blind sage in the forest.  And she was more beautiful than\nany woman in the three worlds.  Verily, had the God of Love seen her,\nhe would instantly have abandoned Rati and Pr\u00edti[6], counting them\nbut as her domestic servants.  And she dressed in bark garments, with\nno mirror but the pools of the forest.  Then one day a crow that was\nacquainted with cities came to her and said: Why dost thou live here,\nwith no companion but an old blind father, who cannot even see thee,\nand does not know the value of his pearl?  The whole world does not\ncontain a beauty equal to thine.  Go and show thyself in cities, and\nI tell thee, the Kings of the earth would quit their kingdoms, and\nfollow thee about like a swarm of bees.  Then said the Rishi's\ndaughter: And who, then, would fetch for my father his sacrificial\nfuel, or water to cook his cakes of rice and milk?  And she drove\naway the crow, and lived on in the forest, serving her father, and at\nthe last became old, and died in the forest, and no man ever saw her\nface.\n\nThen said the Wair\u00e1g\u00ed: Thou foolish Rajpoot, I asked thee for the Way\nof a Woman, and thou hast told me the Way of Emancipation.  Then said\nUmra-Singh: Thou miserable root-eater, since the creation every woman\nhas sacrificed herself for another, or else she was not a woman, for\nthis is the nature of them all.  Then said the Wair\u00e1g\u00ed: Learn now\nfrom me, another portion of thy own way.  And as Umra-Singh watched\nhim, suddenly that deceitful Wair\u00e1g\u00ed became a bat, and stuck out at\nhim again his tongue, and flew away through the trees.  And\nUmra-Singh said to himself: Beyond a doubt this is no ascetic, but\nthe very King of R\u00e1kshasas; nevertheless, he shall tell me my road,\nif he comes again, or it shall be the worse for him.  And suddenly\nagain he saw the Wair\u00e1g\u00ed standing by his side, and sticking out at\nhim, as before, his tongue.  And he said to Umra-Singh: Now thou hast\nonly to tell me the Way of Salvation, and thy own way will be clear\nbefore thee.\n\nThen said Umra-Singh: Thou art but an old R\u00e1kshasa; nevertheless,\nonce more will I give thee an answer, for the sake of my way, and the\ncolour of the eyes of Shr\u00ed.  Know, that the Way of Emancipation is\nthis: There was formerly a King of the race of the Sun, and he was\nvery old, and all his hair was as white as the uppermost peak of the\nSnowy mountain.  And one day he looked from his palace window, and\nsaw in the street a child, drawing behind it a toycart.  And the cart\nfell, and was broken, and the child cried over its broken toy.  Now\nit happened, by the ordinance of fate, that long ago, when he was\nhimself a child, exactly the same thing had happened to that old\nKing.  And as he looked at the child, suddenly the years were\nannihilated, and became as nothing.  And like a picture he saw before\nhim, the image of himself, a child.  And seized with grief, and an\nunutterable longing for the repetition of his life, he exclaimed: O\nMaheshwara, Maheshwara, let me live my life again.  Then suddenly\nMaheshwara stood before him, and laughed, and said: Remember thy\nformer births.  And suddenly memory came upon that old King, and out\nof the darkness of the past there rose before him the series of his\nformer lives.  And Maheshwara said: See, nine and ninety times, in\nnine and ninety births, thou hast made of me the same request, and\nnow this is a hundred.  And every time I have given thee thy wish, in\nvain.  For every time thou hast forgotten, and hast known the value\nof thy youth only after becoming old.  Then said the old King: How,\nthen, can emancipation be obtained?  Maheshwara said: It depends not\non time, but knowledge: and even an instant can bring it when ten\nthousand years have failed.  And thou hast but a little left of life,\nyet even to thee knowledge may come before the end.  Then he\ndisappeared.  Now that old King had a daughter whom he loved better\nthan his own soul.  And, even while he spoke with Maheshwara, she was\nbitten by a snake and died, and he did not know it, for they feared\nto tell him.  So he went as usual to see his daughter.  And when he\nentered her room, he looked, and saw her lying still.  And as he\nwatched her, there came a fly, which buzzed about her, and settled on\nher lips.  Then horror came on that old King, and illusion fell\nsuddenly from his eyes, and the desire of life was destroyed in him\nat its root.  And he turned, and went without waiting to the Ganges,\nand remained there a few years washing away his crimes, like one to\nwhom life and death are the same, and at last entered the river, and\nit drowned him, and carried his body out to sea.\n\nThen said the Wair\u00e1g\u00ed: Now shall thou have emancipation from thy own\nignorance, as to thy way to the Land of the Lotus of the Sun.  And he\nstuck out at Umra-Singh his tongue.  But Umra-Singh suddenly struck\nat him a blow of his sword, and as luck would have it, he cut off the\nend of his tongue.  And he said to him: Beware lest I kill thee, thou\nold impostor.  I will waste no more time expecting to hear from thee\nmy way to the Land of the Lotus, but find it in spite of thee.  Then\nthe Wair\u00e1gi suddenly assumed a terrific form, and exclaimed: Woe to\nthee, thou unlucky Rajpoot.  For thou art now in the land, not of\nlotuses, but of R\u00e1kshasas, of whom I am the chief.  And my subjects\nshall beset thee with illusions, like the sins of thy former birth in\nvisible form; and there wait for thee the Night-walkers, Ulup\u00ed, and\nthe Cow-killer, and the Hairy Grabber, and the Icy Chiller, and the\nFlap-eared Buzzer, and the awful Watcher in his pits of sand, and\nothers without number[7]: and even shouldst thou escape them all, and\nreach the Lotus Land, thou hast still to return.  And he vanished\nwith a shout of laughter, and Umra-Singh was left alone.\n\n\n\n[1] This term denotes one who has turned his back on the world, and\nbecome free from passion.  Its meaning can best be learned from the\nthird section of the Centuries of Bhartrihari, devoted to it.\n(_wair-_ rhymes with _fire_.)\n\n[2] _Jinn_, ogres, vampires, goblins, &c., are all but\ndifferentiations of the Hindoo R\u00e1kshasa, which is what the geologist\ncalls a 'synthetic type' of evil being, whose special feature is its\npower of changing its shape at will (K\u00e1marupa).\n\n[3] There is here an untranslateable play on the word _tripathag\u00e1_,\n_the three-way-goer_, i.e. the Ganges, which flows in three\n_Ways_--in heaven, earth, and hell.  The hermit asks, as we might\nsay, for _the source of the Nile_.\n\n[4] The proper word for caste is _j\u00e1ti, gens_.\n\n[5] Every Hindoo god or goddess has his or her peculiar animal\nvehicle (_w\u00e1hana_).\n\n[6] Pleasure and Joy, the two wives of the God of Love.\n\n[7] These names, which recall certain passages in the R\u00e1mayan, lose\nmuch of their effect in translation.  _goghna_, 'coy-killer,' has a\ncurious history.  Because of old a cow could be killed _only_ for a\nguest of great honour, a word of the most horrible signification\nactually acquired one honourable meaning, i.e. a guest of a high\norder.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\nA Lotus of the Night\n\nThen he said to himself: Though I cut off the tongue of this\nill-omened Wair\u00e1g\u00ed, yet he never told me my way.  And he went on,\nsword in hand, along a silver path, among trees that resembled\nR\u00e1kshasas, for they let in through the hair of their branches the\nlight of the moon, which peered down at him as if out of curiosity,\nand lit him on his way as if in admiration of his courage.  And as he\nwent, gradually the trees grew rarer, and at length he looked before\nhim, and saw in a clear space a dark blue forest pool, studded with\nmoon-lotuses, as if created to mock the expanse of heaven bespangled\nwith its stars, a mirror formed by Wedasa[1] to reproduce another\nworld below.  And all about it flitted fireflies, looking like swarms\nof bees that had returned with torches, unable to endure separation\nat night from the lotus flowers which they loved all day.\n\nAnd as he gazed into the water, he saw in its smooth mirror the image\nof a woman, dancing.  And as she danced, her robes of the colour of\ngrass fluttered in the wind produced by her own movement over the\ncurves of her limbs; and drops of water sparkled in the moonlight\nlike gems on her bosom, which rose and fell like a wave of the sea in\nand out of the shadow of her hair: for that hair resembled a mass of\nthe essence of the blackness of night.  And she chanted as she danced\nwith a voice that sounded like a spell, and fanned the ear like a\nbreeze from the Malaya mountain[2].  Then Umra Singh raised his eyes,\nand saw the original of that water-painted woman-image, dancing on\nthe other side of the pool.\n\nThen she looked across and saw him, and their eyes met, travelling\nover the pool.  And instantly she stopped her singing and dancing,\nand clapped her hands, and called to him like a _Kokila_: Come over\nto me, thou handsome stranger, for I am weary of dancing alone, and I\nhave a question to ask thee.  And she leaned against a tree and stood\nwaiting, with one hand on the trunk of the tree and the other on her\nhip, and a heaving breast: and she looked like a feminine incarnation\nof the essence of the agitation of the ocean, stirred by the sight of\nthe moon.  And Umra-Singh looked at her, and said to himself:\nCertainly the daughters of R\u00e1kshasas are more dangerous than their\nfathers.  And now it is well, that I am fenced by the blue eyes of\nShr\u00ed like a suit of armour, otherwise the glances of this forest\nmaiden would like an axe long ago have cleft my heart in two.\n\nThen he went round the edge of the pool, and found her on the other\nside.  And she beckoned to him as he drew near with a bangled hand,\nand moving lips, and eyes that shone in the moonlight like the eyes\nof a snake.  And she came and stood before him, and put her hand on\nhis shoulder with a touch like a leaf, and looked up into his face\nwith a smile, and said: I am Ulup\u00ed, a Daitya's[3] daughter, and here\nI live in the forest alone, with none to whom to compare myself, save\nmy own image in the water.  Tell me, for thou hast seen other women,\nhast thou ever met with eyes more beautiful than mine?  And\nUmra-Singh looked down into them as into two dark pools, and he felt\nthem pounding his heart like a pair of fists[4].  And he said to\nhimself: She may well ask, and now, but for one other pair, her eyes\nneed fear no rivals.  But he said to her: Beauty[5], thine eyes are\nwell enough: nevertheless the ocean has many gems, and doubtless each\nthinks itself the best: but the Koustubha[6] is above them all.\n\nThen a cloud came over her face, and she flung away from him in\ndisdain, and stood pouting like a child.  And suddenly she turned\nagain, and put up to her head the graceful creepers of her round\narms, and undid the knot of her hair, and shook it.  And it fell,\nlike midnight, about those stars her eyes, and wrapped her all over\nlike a veil, and rolled down round her feet and along the ground,\nlike a black serpent.  Then with her hand she put it away from her\nface, and shot through its meshes a subtle smile, and said: At least\nthou hast never seen the equal of my hair?  And Umra-Singh felt her\nglance strike him like a thunderbolt out of a cloud.  And he said to\nhimself: Well may she ask; and now, if my soul were not already\nsnared in the long lashes of the eyes of Shr\u00ed, it would be netted\nlike a quail in this extraordinary mass of never-ending hair.  But he\nsaid: Beauty, lovely at night is the heaven with its stars, but\nlovelier still the dark blue sea, in which they are reflected, for it\ncontains all their beauty, and adds another of its own.\n\nThen Ulup\u00ed was very angry, and she stood with flashing eyes, swelling\nwith rage.  And suddenly she stooped, and gathered up her hair in her\narm, and came up to Umra-Singh, and flung it round him like a noose,\nand whispered in his ear, with lips that caressed it as they moved: O\nfoolish bee[7], I am but a lotus of the night: yet why despise me, in\ncomparison with the absent lotus of the day?  It is hot and dusty,\nand I am cool and fragrant as the nectar of that moon in whose light\nI blow.  And Umra-Singh trembled.  For there came from her hair a\nstrange wind, like a cloud of the sweet of a thousand scents, that\nlured his soul to listen and dream in the lulling murmur of her\nmouth.  And as he closed his eyes for fear, he saw before him the\nblue scorn in the eyes of Shr\u00ed, and the sound of her laughter and the\nnoise of the drums and the voices of the criers boomed in his ear,\nand drowned Ulup\u00ed's spell.  And he shook himself free from her hair,\nand said: Beauty, I am a Rajpoot of the race of the Sun: what have I\nto do with a lotus of the moon?\n\nThen Ulup\u00ed screamed, like a wounded elephant.  And she seized him by\nthe arm and shook him violently, and exclaimed: Hast thou a stone\nwithin thy breast, instead of a heart, that my beauty cannot touch\nthee?  For I know that I am beautiful, and there is not beauty like\nmine in the three worlds.  And Umra-Singh looked at her, and\nwondered, for her fury made her more lovely than before.  And he\nsaid: O daughter of a Daitya, thou speakest the truth: yet a vessel\nthat is full can hold no more, be the liquor what it may, and such is\nmy heart.  Let me now pass by thee, as undeserving thy regard: for I\nam bound for the Land of the Lotus of the Sun.  Then said Ulup\u00ed, with\na stamp of her foot: Fool! thou shall never see that Lotus Land.\n\nAnd she looked at him with a jeering laugh: and instantly she sat\ndown, and wound herself up in her long hair, and began to weep.  And\nas she wept, the tears ran down from her eyes like a river, and fell\ninto the lake.  Immediately the lake began to rise and swell, and\nflood the wood with water.  And as Umra-Singh stood gazing at her\nwith astonishment, he found himself standing in a vast marsh, with\nthe trees of the forest for rushes.  And he looked, and lo! suddenly\nthat delusive daughter of a Daitya became a mist, and floated away\nover the water like vapour.  And Umra-Singh heard her laughter dying\naway in the distance as she went, and he was left alone in the wood,\nwith the water up to his waist.\n\n\n\n[1] The Creator.\n\n[2] From which the sandal wood comes.\n\n[3] A kind of demon, '_a son of Dili_.'  (Pronounce _dait-_ as\n_white_.}\n\n[4] A reminiscence of Bharirihari.\n\n[5] Nothing can translate _b\u00e1l\u00e1_.  It means child, woman, beauty,\n_beaut\u00e9-de-diable_.\n\n[6] Wishnu's great breast-jewel (_Kou_ as _cow_).\n\n[7] This word here used may mean either a bee or a lover or a\nwanderer (_bhramara_).\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\nThe Silver Swans\n\nAnd as the water kept on rising, rising, Umra-Singh said to himself:\nExtraordinary is the guile of women, and copious their tears, but\nthis daughter of a Daitya surely surpasses them all.  For who ever\nheard of tears that, like rivers, could flood a quarter of the world?\nBut in the meanwhile, before I find my death in these rising waters,\nit is better to take refuge in a tree.  So he climbed up into a tree,\nand looked out over the water, on which the mist hung in the\nmoonlight like a curtain of silver on a floor of lapis-lazuli.  And\nhe said to himself: Is this merely an illusion, or rather, is not\nthis wood well named, being in very truth the matted hair of the\ngreat god, with these trees for hairs, and this water for the Ganges\nthat wanders among them[1], and yonder moon the very ornament of the\nmoon-crested god?  But this water goes on rising, and I must ascend\nhigher into the tree.\n\nSo he climbed up, and up, and as he climbed, the water rose after\nhim, higher and higher, until at last he could see nothing but the\nwater, and the moon, and the tree that stretched away above him into\nthe sky.  And as he went, he said to himself: Up I must go, for there\nis no other resource: and now, unless like the husband of Shr\u00ed[2], I\ncould save myself on the back of a tortoise from this very sea of\nwater, I must surely be destroyed.  For unless this extraordinary\ntree has no top, I must presently reach it, and meet with my death at\nthe same time.  And even without the water, as to how I am to get\ndown again, I have not an idea.  So he continued to climb and climb,\nwhile the water rose, and the moon sank, and the night gradually came\nto an end.\n\nAnd then the sun rose over the eastern mountain, and began like\nhimself to climb up into the sky.  And the sweat poured from his\nlimbs, and at last he stopped, overcome with fatigue.  And he said to\nhimself: Now I can go no further.  Since I must now in any case\nperish, why should I go on climbing in vain?  For surely I am on the\nvery roof of the world, and alone with the sun in the sky.\n\nAnd as he looked down, suddenly he saw before him no water and no\ntree, and his head grew dizzy, and his vision swam, and he could\nscarcely believe his eyes.\n\nFor he stood on the peak of a high mountain, in the very zenith of\nthe sky.  And all round him, and all before him, and behind him, was\na vast desert of burning sand, that stretched away to the very limit\nof the range of sight, and on its edges rested the quarters of\nheaven.  And it glowed in the fire of the sun's rays like a furnace,\nand was furrowed and pitted with holes and chasms; and its surface\nrose and fell, as he watched it, like a woman's breast, and it looked\nas if it were alive, though it was in truth the home of death.  And\nas he gazed, he saw, how over it there crawled swiftly living things\nwith pointed tails, of the colour of sand, which entered the desert\nby the holes, and issued from them, and at length stood still, and\nbecame invisible, save that their tails never rested, and their\nbright eyes stood out of the sand to watch.  And it seemed to\nUmra-Singh, in the loneliness of that vast solitude, that all those\nhideous Eyes sought him out, and fastened on him, and rested on him\nalone, saying to him as it were: Thou canst not escape.\n\nAnd then he said to himself: Now there is indeed no help for me, and\nbeyond a doubt, my end has come.  For to remain here is impossible,\nand equally certain the death that lies, either in going forward or\ngoing back.  And yet I could wish to die, if at all, not in the\npresence of eyes such as these, but in the colour of the eyes of\nShr\u00ed.  Yet how shall I escape the vigilance of yonder dreadful\nDwellers in the Sand, wading with difficulty in its substance that\nwill sink under my feet like the waves of the sea, but over which\nthey scud like the shadow of a cloud?\n\nSo all day he remained on that high place, not daring to descend.\nAnd then at length the sun went to his rest in the western quarter,\nand the moon rose, and was reflected in the bright eyes of those\nsand-haunting R\u00e1kshasas, which glittered in the distance on the dark\ndesert like drops of water on the leaf of a black lotus.  And all\nnight long Umra-Singh lay and watched them, as a bird watches the\neyes of a snake.\n\nThen in the early dawn he looked, and as the light of morning began\nto glimmer in the distance on the edge of the world, he saw far away\nin the pale air two dark specks in the sky.  And as he gazed, they\ngrew larger and rapidly approached him, sending back to him, like\nmirrors, the red rays of the rising sun.  And they drew nearer, and\nhe saw that they were a pair of silver Swans, carrying in their bills\nthe dead body of a third, of gold.  So these two Swans crossed over\nthat dreadful desert with the rapidity of the lightning that\nresembled them, and settled beside him on the hill, to rest.\n\nThen said Umra-Singh: Hail! ye fair birds: surely ye are no birds,\nbut deities, fallen into these bodies of swans by reason of a curse.\nWhence come ye, and whither go ye, and what is this dead golden body\nthat ye carry as ye go?  Then said the Swans: We are carrying home\nthe body of our king, far away to the M\u00e1nasa lake.  For he died\nyesterday, in the Land of the Lotus of the Sun.  And now we must bear\nhim ever onward swiftly to his own country, that the funeral\nceremonies may duly be performed.\n\nBut when Umra-Singh heard them name the Land of the Lotus, his heart\nleaped in his breast.  And sword in hand, he rushed on the dead body\nwith a shout.  And he said to the Swans: As you carried him hither\nfrom that Land of the Lotus of the Sun, so swear now, that you will\ncarry me first back thither, leaving him here till you return:\notherwise I will keep him, and cut you to pieces.\n\nThen seeing that there was no help for it, the Swans said: Be it so:\nand they bound themselves to him by an oath.  And then Umra-Singh\ntook hold of them by the neck, one in each hand; and they stretched\nout their necks, and flew away with him over the desert as he hung.\nAnd he left far behind him the eyes of those hideous R\u00e1kshasas\nglowing in the sand as if with rage to see him escape: and after a\nlong while, they came to the edge of the desert.  And Umra-Singh\nlooked down and saw, far below him, the blue sea, shimmering like the\neyes of Shr\u00ed.  And at a distance in the water, like a dusky jewel on\na purple carpet, he saw an island, with a city on it.  So he said to\nthe Swans: What is that which I see below me?  And they said: It is\nthe Land of the Lotus of the Sun.\n\nThen in his delight, Umra-Singh let go his hold, and clapped his\nhands.  And instantly he fell down like a stone into the sea.  But\nthe Swans returned swiftly over the desert to the body which they had\nleft upon the hill.\n\n\n\n[1] The Ganges fell from heaven, and Shiwa caught it on his head,\nwhere it wandered in his hair for a thousand years before it could\nfind its way down.  A legend which doubtless has reference to the\nvast plateaux of the Him\u00e1laya and Tibet.\n\n[2] He compares himself to the husband of the other Shr\u00ed, i.e. the\nGoddess of Beauty, or Wishnu, whose second incarnation was that of a\ntortoise.\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\nThe Land of the Lotus\n\nBut Umra-Singh rose out of the water like a fowl, and saw the Land of\nthe Lotus away on the sea before him.  And he shouted for joy, and\nbegan to swim in that direction.  And he swam on all day, and at\nlast, though with difficulty, he reached the shore, when his strength\nwas almost gone.  And he crept up out of the water, as the sun was\ngoing down; and overcome with weariness, he lay down, there where he\ncame up out of the sea, and fell asleep.  And all night long he\nslept, and all day; and when the moon had risen again, full and\nround, as if to see whether he was still there, he awoke.\n\nAnd then he stood up, and rubbed his eyes, and exclaimed: Ha! now I\nam at my journey's end, and all its dangers are gone like dreams.\nAnd this is that wonderful Land of the Lotus of the Sun, of which no\none in Indir\u00e1lay\u00e1 had ever heard!  So now that I am here, what\nremains for me to do, but to leave it, and go back again as quickly\nas possible.  For I desired to find it, only to say that I had been\nthere.  And yet when I return, who will believe me?  It were better,\nnow that I am here, to examine it, and learn its peculiarities, that\nI may not twice meet with the treatment due to impostors.\n\nSo he went up from the shore, and through the streets of the city,\nthat lay before him, black and white, in the rays of the silver moon.\nAnd he met nobody, but it was empty, and dark as a barren womb, and\nsilent as a stone incarnation of the spirit of death.  And as he\nwandered up and down, he came at last to a great palace, whose doors\nstood wide open, as much as to say: Come in.  So he went in, and\npassed along, wondering, with echoing steps, from room to room.  Then\non a sudden he entered a door, and found himself in a vast hall,\nwhose walls were pierced with tall windows, through which the\nmoonlight fell, cold as camphor, on moon-stones that hung in clusters\nfrom the roof.  And from them the nectar fell slowly, drop by drop,\nupon the floor.  And at the far end of the room, on a golden couch,\nhe saw lying a dead body, covered with a white pall.\n\nThen he said to himself: What is this wonder, and who can it be that\nlies here, alone in this empty hall?  And he moved on slowly, through\nthe lights of the windows and the shadows of the walls, till he came\nup to the end of the hall, and stood beside the couch.  And he\nstooped down, and lifted up the edge of the pall, and uncovered the\nface, and looked, and lo! it was the face of Shr\u00ed.\n\nAnd Umra-Singh was so astounded, that he leaped into the air, and\nuttered a cry: and he let his sword fall with a crash upon the\ncrystal floor.  And he said to himself: Is it a dream, or is it an\nillusion?  Lo!  I left her living in Indir\u00e1lay\u00e1, and I have travelled\nover the three worlds, and here at the end of space I find her again,\nlying dead in this empty hall!\n\nSo he stood, like a picture on a wall, gazing in silence at the face\nof Shr\u00ed, while the night wore away, and the moon travelled on, and\nthe nectar from the moonstones fell slowly, drop by drop, upon the\nground, and the shadows moved round upon the floor.  And at last,\nafter a long while, he came to himself.  And he let the pall fall\nfrom his hand, recovering the face.  And he stooped down, and took up\nhis sword, and went slowly out of that strange hall, and sat down on\nthe steps of a marble tank, and fell into a waking dream.  And as he\ngazed into vacancy, he saw before him the blue ocean of the eyes of\nShr\u00ed; and his memory echoed with faint murmurs of the sound of drums\nand the voices of criers; and they filled his soul with whispers\ncoming from an infinite distance across the years of separation,\nuntil at length the sun rose.\n\nThen Umra-Singh rose up also, and he struck his forehead with his\nhand.  And he exclaimed: I cannot tell, whether it is reality, or\nwhether it is a dream.  But this I know, that now I must get back\nwithout delay to Indir\u00e1lay\u00e1, and cross, somehow or other, over that\nsea, and that terrible desert, and through that hideous wood, and\ntell my story to the King, and claim my bride.  But first I will\nbathe in yonder pool: for my heart is heavy, and my head aches, for\nall that I have endured during the night, and all that I have seen.\n\nAnd he went down the steps, and plunged into the waters of the pool.\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\nRecognition\n\nAnd as he rose from the water, there rang in his ears, loud and\nclear, the sound of the beating of drums.  And he listened, and heard\nthe criers crying: _Whatsoever high-caste man has been to the Land of\nthe Lotus of the Sun, let him come to the King: he shall share the\nKing's kingdom, and marry the King's daughter_.  And he looked round.\nLo! he was standing in that very tank in Indir\u00e1lay\u00e1, from which he\nhad started, years before, to find the Land of the Lotus of the Sun.\nThen in his amazement, his flesh crept, and his hair stood on end.\nAnd he stood in the pool like a pillar of stone, with the water\nstreaming from his body, and doubt bewildering his soul.  And he said\nto himself: Is it indeed reality, or is it a dream?  And what has\nbecome of the Land of the Lotus, and all my toil?  For here I am in\nIndir\u00e1lay\u00e1, and there are the very criers whom I left behind me,\ncrying, and beating, just as they did before, their drums!\n\nAnd then suddenly he uttered a shout, and exclaimed: Well, now I will\ngo to the King, for the time has come to claim the reward.  And he\nleaped out of the water, and ran up the steps like one that is mad,\nand went up to the criers, and said to them: Cease this useless\ncrying, and this empty beating of drums, and take me quickly to the\nKing, for I have seen that Lotus Land.  And the criers did not\nrecognise him, but they were full of joy at hearing his words: for\ntheir crying had made them weary of life.  So as they were preparing\nto take him to the King, he clapped his hands, and said again: Quick!\ndelay not! but make haste, great haste! or else my heart will break.\nFor I endured separation, when union seemed at a distance, with ease:\nbut now that the moment of re-union approaches, my heart is breaking:\nevery moment seems an age: and if you delay long, I cannot endure.\nThen the criers made great haste, and brought him as quickly as\npossible to the King.\n\nBut when the King saw Umra-Singh, he looked at him narrowly, and knew\nhim again, for all that he was changed.  And he said to himself:\nSurely this is that very rogue, who came to me before to cheat me;\nand now, here he is again!  And he said to Umra-Singh: I know thee,\nthou impostor.  Beware! for this time thou shalt not escape.  Then\nsaid Umra-Singh: King, be it as thou wilt.  Only let me see thy\ndaughter, and that quickly: for I have really seen that Lotus Land:\nthereafter deal with me as it may please thee best.  And as he spoke,\nungovernable impatience seized him: and he stamped his foot upon the\nground, and tears came into his eyes, and suddenly he began to laugh.\nAnd the King looked at him with curiosity, and wondered at him: and\nhe said to himself: Either this fellow is mad, or it is as he says,\nand he has really seen that Lotus Land.  But he said again to\nUmra-Singh: Remember, if this time also thou art playing false, death\nis the reward.  Umra-Singh said: Show me thy daughter, and put me\nthen to any kind of death.\n\nSo the King sent for his daughter, and after a while, Shr\u00ed came in.\n\nBut when Umra-Singh saw her enter, he sobbed aloud, and strode\ntowards her.  And as she turned her eyes on him in fear, he plunged\nhis fainting soul into their azure sea.  And in an instant he forgot\nhis journey and his toil, and obtained in that moment the nectar of\nemancipation from the hunger of longing, and the pain of separation,\nand the terror of untimely death.  And Shr\u00ed looked at him, as he\nstood before her, and instantly she knew him again.  And her heart\nbeat in her bosom like a drum, and she was seized with trembling, and\ncould not speak, for fear and doubt.  For again the forgotten ties of\nher former birth fought for utterance in her soul, and yet she feared\nhim for his insolence, and despised him for his poverty: for he was\nten times leaner and more ragged than before.  And long she looked at\nhim without speaking.  And then at last she found her voice, and\nspoke, and said slowly: What! is it thou, most doughty traveller?\nAnd hast thou made another story?  Good it had better be, thy second\ntale, for never shall thou live to make a third.\n\nBut Umra-Singh leaned towards her, with hungry eyes, for his soul\nyearned for the repetition of a forgotten past.  And he looked at her\nlong and wistfully, till her glance quailed, for her spirit was\nmastered by his courage and his love.  And twice he strove to speak,\nand twice he failed, while great tears fell from his eyes upon the\nground.  And then at last, he became master of himself.  And he said:\nDear, now use me as thou wilt, and put me to any death.  But tell me\nfirst, before I die: How comes it that I see thee here alive, and yet\nI saw thee, in that Lotus City, lying dead upon a couch.  in the cold\nrays of the moon?\n\nThen Shr\u00ed threw up her arms with a shriek.  And she cried out: Ha! it\nis the truth: this man has really seen the Land of the Lotus of the\nSun.  And suddenly, the veil of oblivion was drawn for an instant,\nand she caught a glimpse of her former birth, and knew her husband\nagain.  And instantly she ran to him, and threw herself into his\narms, and hung on his breast, and clung to him, like a jasmine\ncreeper on a noble tree.  And tears fell from her eyes like rain, and\nshe laughed for joy, and caressed his face with her hand, and said:\nBrave heart, and didst thou dare to go alone to that distant Lotus\nLand?  Thou art indeed my own husband, in this life as in the last.\nAnd now, after long separation, I have found thee for an instant, and\nthou hast me.  Only seek as well again, and we shall meet once more,\nand taste yet another drop of the nectar of mutual enjoyment, before\nwe die: for so it is decreed.  I say, remember: we shall meet again.\n\nThen she stood up, and pushed him back, so violently, that he nearly\nfell.  And all they that stood by watched her and wondered.  For as\nthey gazed, she grew in beauty, like a waxing moon, and flashed like\na great jewel, and dazzled the eyes of all like the brightness of a\nlamp: and the colour of her wondrous eyes shot from them and streamed\nabout the room, and lit up its walls with glory like that of a\nsetting sun.  And seeing it, the King her father was full of joy, for\nhe thought: Now she is going to be married, and I have attained the\nfruit of my birth.  But the astrologers looked at each other in\ndismay, for they knew that she was about to die.  So as they gazed,\nsuddenly she drooped and fell, and lay before them on the floor, like\na lotus smitten by the frost.\n\nThen the astrologers said, gloomily: She has abandoned the body, and\ngone somewhere else.  And the King, seeing her fall, and hearing them\nspeak, lost his senses, and fell down beside her in a swoon.  But\nUmra-Singh turned, and left the palace, and went out into the street.\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\nSeparation\n\nAnd he reeled about like a drunken man, this way and that way,\njostling the people, who marvelled and mocked at him: See, see, the\nragged Rajpoot, the suitor of the King's daughter, whose very sight\nhas killed her!  But he heard nothing but the words of Shr\u00ed, and saw\nnothing but her eyes.  And he staggered on, like a wooden doll, on\nfeet that moved of their own accord, till as before he reached the\ntank, and sank down upon the ground, knowing neither where he was nor\nwhat he did, puzzled about the quarters of the world[1].  And like a\nman, out of whose universe the sun and moon and the five elements\nwith their compounds have withdrawn, leaving him alone in the centre\nof empty space, he lay motionless, plunged in stupor, with dry eyes.\nThen all at once memory returned to him, and he began to weep.  And\nhe wept, as if he contained within him the very fountains of the salt\nsea, till at last from weariness and grief he fell asleep on the edge\nof the tank.  And in his dreams Shr\u00ed stood beside him, and revived\nhis parched soul with the nectar of her kindly glance, as a hermit's\ndaughter refreshes with water the plants of the hermitage committed\nto her charge.\n\nAnd after drinking deep draughts from those two fountains of pity and\nlove, he awoke, and found that it was now night, and again he was\nalone at the moonlit tank.  And he said to himself: Alas! alas!  I\nfound my bride, and lost her again at the same instant, through the\nterrible operation of sins committed in a former birth.  Now indeed I\nam alone, for this time she is gone I know not where, and how am I to\nlook for her?  And yet she told me we should meet again, to keep me\nfrom despair.  Therefore now I will wander away over the wide world,\nand spend my life in seeking her: for but this, nothing is left in\nlife, and the hope of reunion is like the back of the Great Tortoise,\nmy solitary refuge in the wreck of the three worlds.\n\nSo he rose up, and went out of the city, and wandered about, hither\nand thither, like a bubble on the waves of time.  And he went from\nvillage to village, and from city to city, asking everywhere of all\nwhom he met: Have you seen Shr\u00ed, my wife? you will know her by her\neyes, for they are full of the colour of heaven.  But however much he\nasked, he found no answer: nor could anyone tell him anything about\nher.  On the contrary, all wondered at him and turned him to\nridicule.  And one would say: Who is this moon-struck vagabond who\nroams about looking for a blue-eyed beauty?  And another: What wonder\nthat Shr\u00ed has deserted such a ragged mendicant, who forsakes even the\nwell-to-do!  And others said: This distracted Rajpoot wants the moon,\nbut he needs medicines[2].  And at last he abandoned altogether the\ndwellings of men, and wandered continually in the jungle, with no\ncompanions but his shadow and his sword, looking in vain for the path\nby which he had gone on his former journey to the Land of the Lotus,\nand gazing by day at the pools of blue lotuses, and by night at the\nheaven with its stars, for they were like mirrors and images of the\nhues and shadows of the eyes of Shr\u00ed.\n\n\n\n[1] _dinmohita=desorient\u00e9_.\n\n[2] The point of these gibes depends on the various meanings of the\nword Shr\u00ed: which may mean his wife, or the goddess of fortune, or the\nmoon: out of which come herbs or medicines.\n\n\n\n\nXI.\n\nThe Lord of the Beasts\n\nNow in the meanwhile it happened that Maheshwara, as he roamed\nthrough the sky with P\u00e1rwati on his breast, looked down to earth, and\ncaught sight of Umra-Singh wandering in the forest, uttering\nlamentations, and exclaiming: O Shr\u00ed, where art thou hiding?  Hast\nthou, like the desert, no pity for the antelope that is dying of\nthirst for the water of thine eyes[1]?  And immediately he remembered\nhis boon to Kamalamitra, and grasped the whole story from beginning\nto end.  So he said to Um\u00e1 with a smile: Go now to thy father[2], and\nwait for me: for there is here a matter that demands my attention.\nThen his consort said to him in a cajoling tone: What is the matter?\ntell me.  Maheshwara said: I will tell thee afterwards: at present I\nhave no leisure: depart.  Thereupon the goddess went off pouting to\nthe Snowy Mountain.  But the moon-crested god descended to earth.\nAnd there, taking the form of an ascetic, he entered the forest.  And\nstanding in its densest part, his body white with ashes, garlanded\nwith a necklace of skulls, with a half-moon in his yellow hair, he\ncreated by his supernatural power a gong, hanging from a banyan tree\nin the centre of the wood.  And he struck with his trident a blow on\nthat mind-born gong that resounded through the forest like thunder.\n\nThen instantly, hearing that terrible summons, all the denizens of\nthe wood, Yakshas and Pish\u00e1chas, R\u00e1kshasas and Hamadryads, with the\nwild animals and the rest, assembled together and flew towards the\nsound, and crowded around the gong like flies or bees to honey or a\ndead body.  And when they had mustered, they enquired humbly of that\nLord of Creatures animate and inanimate: What orders has the Lord of\nAll for his servants, and why are we now summoned?  Then said the\nGreat Ascetic: There is in this wood a lover looking for his bride.\nAnd she on her part will sometime or other be here to join him.  See\nthat none of you do them actual harm, by devouring or destroying\nthem: for they are to work out their redemption in the wood, by the\ndecree of destiny and my will and pleasure[3].  For they fell under a\ncurse, and so became mortals: but when they meet here, and the\ncircumstances are favourable, their curse will have an end.\nTherefore delude them if you will, but beware that you touch not a\nhair of their heads.\n\nThus he spoke, and all assented, prostrating themselves at his feet.\nAnd then he began to dance.  Then all joined furiously in the\nfestival of his favour, seized with the madness born of devotion,\nuttering ecstatic hymns of praise, each in his own language.  So\nafter that he had sported sufficiently, and bestowed on those adorers\nthe nectar of his presence, that Lord whose left half is his wife\nremembered his promise to the Daughter of the Mountain, and returned\nto the snowy peak of Kail\u00e0s, to tell her the story and coax away her\nsulks.\n\n\n\n[1] There is here an untranslateable play on the word mriga-trishn\u00e1,\n'the thirst of the antelope,' i.e. the mirage of the desert, to which\nhe compares her eyes.\n\n[2] i.e. the Him\u00e1laya mountain, of which, or rather whom, P\u00e1rwati is\nthe daughter, as her name signifies.\n\n[3] The Hindoos never had a Lucian, to laugh at their mythological\ncontradictions.  They were always too much under the spell.\n\n\n\n\nXII.\n\nThe Other Body\n\nBut in the meanwhile Shr\u00ed[1], when she abandoned the body in\nIndir\u00e1lay\u00e1, flew in the twinkling of an eye to the Land of the Lotus\nof the Sun.  And there she entered that other body, lying in a couch\nin the Palace hall.  Then instantly she opened her eyes, and rose up,\nas if awaking from a dream.  And she was filled with astonishment,\nterror, and dismay, when she found herself alone in the empty hall.\nAnd she exclaimed: Alas! what is this mystery, and how came I into\nthis deserted hall, and in which quarter of the world am I, and what\nhas become of my husband?  Now do I see the terrible consequences of\nsins committed in a former birth.  Alas! how am I to regain him, and\nwhere is he to be found?  Surely we are like two tiny fishes in the\ninfinite ocean of time.  Yet even so, despair is unavailing.  Did not\nS\u00edt\u00e1 recover R\u00e1ma, and Shakuntal\u00e1, Dushyanta, and Damayanti cross the\nocean of separation, and repose on the shore in the shape of the\nembraces of Nala?  Truly omnipotent is the power of love, and what\nlove was ever greater than mine?  For it passes on from body to body,\nand draws fresh fire from each new birth.\n\nThen she dressed herself in the white pall[2], and went hastily out\nof that empty palace, shrinking like a fawn at the echo of her own\nfootsteps, and passed out of the gates, and ran through the deserted\nstreets, down to the very edge of the sea.  And there she stood with\nher bare feet lapped by the waves, looking out eagerly over the sea,\nwith eyes that laughed at and shamed it of its blue.  And it rose in\nagitation at her beauty, as if stirred by the moon, while the wind\nkissed her unaware, and played with her hair and clothes.  Then she\nsaid: O Ocean, art thou too parted from someone, that thou heavest\nlong drawn sighs?  Art thou also wrenched with grief, that thou\nsprinklest me with the salt tears of thy spray?\n\nAnd as she gazed, there appeared tossing on the waves a ship, like\nthe realization of her desire to cross the ocean in visible form.\nNow that ship belonged to a great merchant captain, who was returning\nhome from a trading voyage.  And when he saw a female figure standing\nalone on the shore, he came quickly in a boat to take her captive.\nBut when he got to the shore, and saw the wonderful beauty of her\ndark blue eyes and snow white raiment, he was struck with wonder, and\nbecame afraid.  And he said to her in awe: Surely thou art some\ndivinity, and no mere mortal maiden.  Tell me thy name, that I may\nknow whom to adore.  Then said Shr\u00ed: Sir, I am no divinity, but a\nking's daughter; and I am seeking for my husband.  Carry me, of your\nkindness, over the sea, for I must find my way to Indir\u00e1lay\u00e1.  But\nhearing this, that merchant was overjoyed; for he thought: Indir\u00e1lay\u00e1\nis in another quarter of the world, and I will be her husband.  For\nhe was drowned in the ocean of her eyes.  So he said to her: O thou\ntrue daughter of a King, my ship is thine and all that it contains.\nCome now, and I will carry thee whithersoever thou wilt.  So Shr\u00ed\nconsented.  And the merchant in his delight counted the whole world\nas a straw, thinking he had got her for a wife.\n\nSo when he got to the ship, he said to her: Truly this husband of\nthine is a sorry rascal.  Out upon him, who could leave such an\nincomparable beauty as thine to roam about the world without him!\nForget him now, for I will be thy husband.  Then said Shr\u00ed: This is\nimpiety, nor is my husband to blame in this matter.  Know, too, that\nto a good wife her husband is a deity.  Then said the merchant: Thou\nshalt marry me whether thou wilt or not: and I care nothing for piety\nor impiety, but only for thy wonderful eyes.  And now I have thee, I\nwill keep thee.  So he carried her in his ship, very carefully,\nclosely guarded, to his own city, and shut her in an upper chamber of\nhis house, hoping to prevail on her in course of time, neglecting his\naffairs.\n\nThen Shr\u00ed said to herself: Alas for my beauty, which is a curse and\nno blessing to me, in that it has placed me in the power of this\nheadstrong merchant!  Nevertheless, even so, I have got over the sea.\nAnd now, I must lose no time in escaping from this infatuated sinner,\nor worse things may come about.  And she went to the window and\nlooked out.  Now by the ordinance of fate it so happened, that at\nthat moment the King of that city was passing by on his elephant.  So\nwhen she saw it, Shr\u00ed said to herself: There is my deliverance in the\nform of an elephant.  And now I must sin a little, to save myself\nfrom greater guilt.  Then she called to the _mahout_: Come nearer, O\ndriver of the elephant: for I am anxious to taste the delight of\nriding on an elephant.  And hearing this, the mahout looked at the\nKing.  And the King looked at the face of Shr\u00ed.  And Shr\u00ed shot at the\nKing a blue glance from her eye.  And instantly the King lost his\nsenses, and said to the _mahout_: Do as she bids thee.  So the\n_mahout_ brought the elephant under the window, and Shr\u00ed let herself\nfall from the window on to his back.  And she caught hold of the King\nto save herself from falling, and the King almost fainted from excess\nof joy, and the nectar of her touch.  And without losing a moment, he\ncarried her off to his palace, as delighted as if he had conquered\nthe whole earth.  But the merchant, when he found that she had gone,\nabandoned the body in his despair.\n\nThen as soon as they reached the palace, the King said to Shr\u00ed: What\nis thy name and family?  Shr\u00ed said: I am a King's daughter from a far\ncountry, and my name is Shr\u00ed.  Then said the King: Thou didst well to\nforsake that miserable trader for me.  Should the lioness, forsooth!\nmate with the jackal?  And now will I place thee, like a choice\njewel, in the centre of my diadem, and thou shall be the very apex of\nthe summit of my fortune[3].  Then said Shr\u00ed: King, do not speak\nthus.  For I am the wife of another.  And I fled to thee for refuge,\nand not for frivolity: for yonder merchant would have made me his\nwife by force.  So do me justice, and let me go: for I may not be a\nwife to thee.\n\nThen said the King: Thy dark blue eyes have utterly destroyed my\nsense of right and wrong, which are now mere words without meaning,\nimpotent to hold me as is a lotus stalk to fetter that elephant which\nbrought thee hither; and in vain dost thou talk to me of letting thee\ngo: thou askest me for my life: for till I saw those unfathomable\nblue lakes which thou hast stolen to make thee eyes, I never lived.\nOnly consent, and I will efface by my devotion the memory of thy\nhusband, as the sun dries up a shallow pool.  But Shr\u00ed said: Say not\npool, but ocean, on which the sun shines for ever, yet never makes it\nany less: for such is my love to my husband.  But the King paid no\nheed to her words, which entered at his ear, but never reached his\nmind.  For all his soul was in his eyes, feasting on the face of\nShr\u00ed, which made him drunk like the juice of Soma[4].\n\nThen seeing the state of the case, Shr\u00ed said to herself: Alas!  I\nhave escaped the lesser danger only to incur the greater, and become\nthe prey of this unrighteous King.  Now there is no help for me, save\nin stratagem, and the natural craft of woman.  And she lifted up her\nlashes, and cast on the King a crooked glance, that almost deprived\nhim of his reason.  And she said, moving her bow-arched eyebrows,\nwith a smile: Out upon the heart of woman, for it is soft as a\nflower, and averse to constancy!  Leave me awhile, for I must\nconsider this matter.  And yet, stay not away too long, for thou art\ngood to look upon, and well-fitted to be my husband, were I not\nalready the wife of another man.  But hearing this, the King was\nutterly bewildered, and doubted the testimony of his ears.  And he\nthought: Now she will consent, after a little coaxing.  And he looked\nat her as she stood smiling at him, bowing like a flower from the\nweight of her bosom and the slenderness of her waist, and laughed in\nhis intoxication, befooled by the roundness of her limbs and the\nblueness of her eyes, and forgetting that the Creator made woman to\nbe an instrument of delusion, with an exterior of honey and an\ninterior of poison.  And he left her to perform his kingly duties,\nintending to return without delay, and thinking the fruit of his\nbirth attained.\n\nBut as soon as he was gone, Shr\u00ed summoned a chamberlain, and said to\nhim: Take me to the Head Queen, and lose not a moment, or it will be\nthe worse for thee.  And that chamberlain trembled and obeyed her,\nfor he feared her power, saying to himself: The King would throw his\nkingdom into the sea for a glance from her eye, and now my life is on\nher forefinger.  So when Shr\u00ed came before the Queen, she said to her:\nLady, thou art my sole refuge.  Know, that the King thy husband found\nme to-day in the city, and stole me away, seeking to make me his\nwife.  Now contrive my escape, for I am the wife of another, and I\nmay not be his wife.  And do it very quickly, for this is an\nopportunity which will never occur again.  Then the Queen looked at\nher, and said to herself: She says well, and I must indeed send her\naway without losing a moment.  For if she remains here, and becomes\nhis wife, the King will abandon everything for her sake, and the\nstate will go to ruin.  Moreover, he will never again have anything\nto do with me or any other of his queens: for her beauty is like a\nvery feminine incarnation of the five arrows of the god of love.\n\nSo she summoned her confidential women; and they disguised Shr\u00ed as a\ndancing girl, and conveyed her secretly out of the palace without\ndelay.  But when the King returned, and found that she was gone, he\nbecame mad.  And he put to death, of his retainers, everything that\nwas male.\n\n\n\n[1] See note, p. 21.\n\n[2] As this might sound bizarre to the English reader, accustomed to\nthe elaborate toilettes of western ladies, he should know, that\nnothing can be more simple than the dress of a Hindoo woman.  A\nsingle long piece of stuff, wound like a petticoat round the waist,\nsecured, and thrown over the head to form a veil, forms a garment\nthat the Greeks might have envied.  Nothing can surpass the taste,\nbeauty, and grace of the way in which it follows and reveals without\nbetraying the figure of its wearer.\n\n[3] He plays on her name.  The old Hindoo r\u00e1j\u00e1s had the same\nveneration for their royal fortune (_Shr\u00ed_) as the Romans for their\n_Fors Fortuna_.\n\n[4] A play on her name, as a digit of the moon: Soma is the moon, and\nthe famous intoxicant of the early Hindoos.\n\n\n\n\nXIII.\n\nThe Light in Darkness\n\nBut Shr\u00ed, when she got out of the palace, instantly went out of the\ncity by unfrequented paths, and entered the Great Forest.  For she\nsaid to herself: If I remain in the city, I may fall again into the\npower of the King, or, it may be, of someone still worse.  For alas!\nevery man that sees me is blinded by my eyes, and I shall not always\nfind a door of escape from persecution.  Moreover, to beauty without\nits guardian, wild beasts are less dangerous than men with souls\nthrough the influence of passion worse than those of beasts.  Better\nfar to be devoured by an animal, than become perforce the wife of\nanother man.\n\nSo she went on through the forest for many days, supporting her life\non roots and fruits and the water of the pools and streams.  And she\ntore her clothes to pieces in the bushes, and pierced her feet with\ntheir thorns, leaving where she passed on the grass drops of blood,\nlike rubies, mingled with the pearls of her tears that fell beside\nthem, as often as she thought of her absent husband.  And the deeper\nshe went into the wood, the more her spirit sank, and the more her\nsoul longed for the nectar of her husband's arms.  Alas! the courage\nof women is but a pale and lunar image in the mirror of that of men,\nand vanishes in their absence.  And at last there came a day when she\nwas seized with panic, and a fear of unknown evil: and she sank down\nat the foot of a tree, and watered its roots with her tears.\n\nNow it happened, that some Bhillas, hunting, by the decree of\ndestiny, in the forest, came upon her track, and saw the drops of\nblood upon the leaves.  And they followed them up, saying to\nthemselves: Some wounded animal has passed this way.  So as they came\nalong, every now and then they stopped and listened.  And suddenly,\nthey heard the sound of the voice of a woman, weeping in the wood.\nThen full of astonishment, they proceeded in the direction of the\nsound: and all at once they saw Shr\u00ed, sitting under a tree, looking\nlike an incarnation of Rati grieving for her husband, when burned by\nMaheshwara[1].  For her clothes were torn, and her hair was\ndishevelled, and her great eyes filled with tears resembled the\npetals of a blue lotus sparkling with drops of water cast upon them\nby the sporting of swans in a pool.  So those wild Bhillas wondered\nwhen they saw her, and said to each other: What is this marvel of a\ndancing girl, so ragged and so beautiful, weeping alone in the wood?\nAnd then they went up to her and stood round her in a ring.  And she\nlooked in the midst of those black barbarians like a digit of the\nmoon in the jaws of R\u00e1hu.  Then after a while the spell of her beauty\nentered and poisoned the hearts of those Bhillas, like one of their\nown arrows.  And each one said secretly to himself: She shall be my\nwife.  So they debated about her, and proposed to each other to draw\nlots for her.  But they could not agree about it, and fell to\nquarrelling, and it was as if a stone had been dropped into a nest of\nserpents.\n\nThen one laid hands upon her, and then another, till she was nearly\ntorn in pieces.  And finally they came to blows, and fought for her\nover her body, filled by the frenzy begotten by her beauty, and the\ndesire of exclusive possession[2].  And very soon they were all\neither dead or dying of wounds, for each was more eager to destroy\nanother than to protect himself: and they lay all about her unable to\nmove.  Then Shr\u00ed, seizing her opportunity, and urged by terror, rose\nup and fled away from them, being sprinkled by their blood, mingled\nwith her own, for she had received in the struggle a blow from a\nBhilla that was meant for another.  And she ran on, stumbling over\nroots and creepers in her haste, till she came at last to a forest\npool.  And there she lay down at the edge of the water and drank\ngreedily; and afterwards washed her wound and stains, and bathed her\nfeet, and overcome by weariness, fell asleep.  Then the moon rose,\nand stole through the trees and kissed her with beams that trembled\nwith admiration[3]; and the wild animals came down, one by one, to\ndrink at the pool, and obedient to the commands of Triambaka, did her\nno harm, but licked her feet and hands as she lay.\n\nNow, as fate would have it, this was the very pool, at which\nUmra-Singh had met with Ulup\u00ed, the daughter of the Daitya.  And in\ncourse of the night, Ulup\u00ed came herself to the pool, to dance and\nsport according to her wont.  And when she arrived, she saw Shr\u00ed,\nlying asleep by the pool.  So she came and stood over her, and\nmarvelled at the beauty of her limbs, even though her eyes were shut.\nAnd at last, out of curiosity, she touched her on the bosom with her\nfinger, saying to herself: Is this an illusion, or is it a real\nwoman, and is she dead or alive?  But Shr\u00ed shuddered at her touch,\nfor it suggested evil to her sleeping soul.  And she opened her eyes,\nand their deep blue awoke the envy of the daughter of the Daitya, and\nastonished her even more than before.\n\nThen they looked at each other, like light and darkness, and each\nwondered at the loveliness of the other, forgetful of her own.  And\nat last Ulup\u00ed said: Who art thou, and what is thy name and family,\nand whence hast thou come to my pool, and why?  Shr\u00ed said: I am a\nKing's daughter, looking for my husband, whom I lost, by the\noperation of crimes in a former birth, at the very moment that I\nfound him again, after that he had returned to me from the Land of\nthe Lotus of the Sun.  But when Ulup\u00ed heard her, she was filled with\nsudden rage and malice.  And she said to herself: Ha! so this is that\nabsent lotus of the day, by reason of whom my beauty was scorned, and\nset at nought by the handsome stranger who saw me dancing by my pool.\nAnd instantly she started up, and assuming a terrific form, she\ngnashed at Shr\u00ed with teeth like saws, and made horrible grimaces at\nher, saying: Wretch, thou shalt never quit this wood, but wander for\never with thy accursed beauty among its trees, haunted and beset by\nhideous illusions till thou shalt long for death.  Let thy absent\nhusband save thee if he can.  And she vanished with a peal of\nlaughter, leaving Shr\u00ed fainting by the pool.\n\nBut Ulup\u00ed flew through the wood, and found Nightwalker, the old\nWair\u00e1g\u00ed, and told him all, and begged of him a boon, saying: Torment\nthis miserable mortal woman, and deceive her with illusions for she\nhas done me deadly injury.  And Nightwalker rejoiced at the\nopportunity, for he remembered how Umra-Singh had defied him, and cut\noff his tongue in the wood.  But he said: This is no easy matter, for\nwe are forbidden by Pashupati to do her harm.  But though I will do\nher no injury, I will delude this wandering wife of a vile husband,\ntill she will desire to abandon the body of her own accord.\n\n\n\n[1] See note, p. 9.\n\n[2] ahamahamik\u00e1, 'each one saying I, I.'\n\n[3] The Moon proper, in Sanskrit, is _Lunus_, not _Luna_.\n\n\n\n\nXIV.\n\nIllusion\n\nBut Shr\u00ed, when she came to herself, sat weeping, and fearing for\nherself in the future: for she foreboded evil from the malicious\npranks of the daughter of the Daitya.  And yet she could not tell,\nhow she could possibly have offended her, or deserved her anger.  And\nas soon as day broke, she rose up, and began to go trembling through\nthe wood, in which the shadows of night still hung among the trees,\nstarting at the noise of the falling leaves, and yearning for\nemancipation from danger in the form of her husband's presence.\n\nThen after a while, she stopped and listened: for she heard among the\ntrees steps, as of one coming in her direction.  And her heart beat\nviolently, as if to say: Let me abandon thy body, and so escape the\ndanger coming on thee.  So she hid herself in a hollow tree, and\npeeped out in terror.  And suddenly, strange! there in the dim\ntwilight she saw her husband coming towards her, looking just as he\ndid, when she left him in the palace at Indir\u00e1lay\u00e1.  And instantly\nshe ran towards him, overcome by emotion and great surprise, and\ncaught him in her arms, exclaiming: At last, at last, I have found\nthee again.  And she wept aloud, and forgot in that moment all her\nsorrow; and she looked at him, and laughed for joy, and closed her\neyes, as if, like the sun, the sight of him dimmed and overcame the\nfaculty of vision.  Then after a while, she opened them again, and\nstarted and shrieked, and her blood became ice, and her heart\nstopped.  For he that held her in his arms was not her husband, but a\nhairy thing with hideous eyes, that resembled an incarnation of the\nbrute in human shape; and it fastened those fearful eyes upon her\nown, and laughed and whined and panted like a beast with hot quick\nbreath into her face.  Then her senses abandoned her, like cowards,\nand she sank down to the earth in a swoon.\n\nAnd when at length she revived, she looked, and saw that the sun was\ndeclining in the western quarter.  But the moon had not yet risen,\nfor it was the beginning of the dark half of the month.  Then all at\nonce memory came back to her, and she shook with agitation.  And she\nsaid to herself: Was it a reality, or was it only an evil dream?\nSurely it was but a dream; for I am very weak and tired.  And even\nnow I cannot tell, whether I wake or sleep.\n\nSo she sat with her eyes closed; fearing to open them, lest she\nshould see she knew not what among the shadows of the trees.  And\nthen the waning moon rose, and poured through the interstices of the\nleaves beams faint and pallid, as if sharing her own terror.  And at\nlast, unable to endure any longer the silence and the solitude, she\nrose up and began to move slowly, with hesitating steps, through the\ndark wood, not knowing where to go, yet not daring to stay where she\nwas.\n\nAnd suddenly, as she went, she looked before her, and there, in an\nopen space, again she saw her husband, lying still under a tree.\nInstantly she stopped, and stood, balanced in the swing of\nvacillation.  For the joy of reunion, and the desire of safety, and\nthe fear of solitude drew her towards him like a threefold cord:\nwhile the memory of her deception, and the fear of illusion, and the\nanticipation of unknown danger, fixed her to the ground like roots.\nAnd she wavered and swayed on her feet, like a young shoot fanned by\nopposing breezes: while large tears fell from her eyes, like drops of\ncamphor from a moonstone[1].  And as she stood there doubting whether\nhe were dead or alive, for his face was wan in the light of the\npallid moon, his eyes opened, and met her own.  And he sprang up, and\nran towards her, while she remained unable to stir, and took her in\nhis arms, while she shrank from his embrace.  And he exclaimed: The\nsight of thee has lifted me out of the mouth of death, for I had\ndetermined to abandon the body.  And then he said again: Alas! and\nwhy, O thou of the lovely eyes, dost thou shrink from me?  But Shr\u00ed\nremained silent, torn by suspicion, and shaken by the beating of her\nown heart.  And ever and anon she raised her eyes, and looked at him\nin doubt.  And then at last she said slowly: Art thou indeed my\nhusband? is it really thyself and no one else?  Then he said: What is\nthy question or thy doubt?  Hast thou forgotten me already?  Surely\nit is but a little while since I lost thee in the palace of\nIndir\u00e1lay\u00e1.  Then said Shr\u00ed, sighing: There came to me but now one\nwho resembled thee in every feature, and deceived me: and even now, I\nshudder when I think of it, lest thou too should be another such as\nhe.\n\nThen he said: Dear, thou art weak, and a dream has deceived thee: but\nthis time, it is no dream.  Know that I am none other than myself,\nand thou art with me.  Let me dispel thy terror with a kiss.  And he\nbent down, and she raised her face with a smile, saying to herself:\nIt was nothing but a dream.  But even as she touched his face, it\nchanged, and became gigantic and misshapen, with a large tongue that\nhung out of lips that resembled those of a cow; and it broke out into\nloud laughter, and disappeared.  But Shr\u00ed fell to the ground, as if\nmenaced by the outstretched forefinger of death.\n\n\n\n[1] The Hindoos have a superstition, illustrated in a previous page,\nthat moonstones in the rays of the moon distil a sort of lunar syrup,\nnectar or camphor, supposed to be composed of the substance of the\nmoon.\n\n\n\n\nXV.\n\nThe Dead of Night\n\nSo she lay, all night long: and when at length the day dawned, she\ncame, though with difficulty, back to herself.  And she tried to\nrise, but could not, for her limbs refused to do their duty.  So she\nlay there, cold as snow, and shivering like the surface of a lake\nruffled by the wind.\n\nThen gradually the sun left his home in the eastern mountain, and\nascended the sky.  And warmed by his beams, a little of her strength\nreturned: and after a while, she rose to her feet, which wandered\naway, and carried her where they would, until they brought her to\nanother forest pool.  And there she lay down, and leaned and drank of\nits water.  And she looked into its mirror, and saw herself, slender\nand emaciated as the old moon, but pale and colourless as that moon\nat mid-day[1].  And her long hair fell down over her shoulder into\nthe water.  Then she bound up that wet hair into a knot, and remained\nall day by the pool, not endeavouring to go further: for she said to\nherself: Rather let me stay here to perish of hunger, or furnish\nmyself food to some wild beast, than continue my journey through a\nwood filled with illusions worse than a hundred deaths.  For they\nwear the guise of a friend, and so finding entrance into my heart\nsting it like serpents, turning into poison the nectar of him whom\nmost of all I long to see.  Surely my sins in a former birth were\nterrible in their enormity: for I have suffered in this existence\npain sufficient for many lives.  And now I feel that I cannot long\nendure, for my strength is becoming exhausted.  O that I could indeed\nfind my husband, were it only to die in his arms!\n\nSo she sat by the pool, grieving like a female _chakraw\u00e1ka_ for her\nmate, while the sun made, like the enemy of Bali, but three steps\nover the sky.  And when at last he sank, she also grew weary, and\nfell asleep on the edge of the pool.  And in her dreams she saw her\nhusband, and drank her fill of the nectar of his embraces.  And then,\nin the dead of night, she awoke, and sat up, and looked, and lo!\nthere in the moonlight she saw him again, silently sitting beside\nher.  And she leaped to her feet in agony, and turned to fly, and\nscreamed aloud.  For there stood before her another husband on the\nother side.  Then suddenly the whole wood was full of laughter.  And\nher reason fled, and she became mad.  And she exclaimed: Out on this\nwood, for it is full of husbands!  And she began to run through the\nwood, shutting her eyes, and stopping her ears.\n\n\n\n[1] The same idea is beautifully put by Butler in Hudibras, where he\ncalls the sun's light on the moon a\n\n  Mysterious veil, of brightness made,\n  That's both her lustre and her shade.\n\n\n\n\nXVI.\n\nBefore Dawn\n\nAnd now, by the decree of destiny, it so happened, that Umra-Singh,\nhaving wandered through the whole world looking for his wife, roaming\nup and down in the forest, was lying asleep in another place, close\nto that very pool.  And suddenly he laughed in his sleep.  For in his\ndreams he had found again the Land of the Lotus of the Sun.  And he\nstood once more in the moonlit hall, beside the golden couch.  Then\nslowly, slowly, he raised the pall, and looked long at the face of\nShr\u00ed.  But as he gazed, it became apeish, and stuck out at him a\nlarge red tongue.  And he saw before him, not Shr\u00ed, but the old\nWair\u00e1g\u00ed.  Then a shout of laughter rang in his ears, mingled with the\nvoices of criers and the din of drums; and he started to his feet\nawake, with an icy sweat on his brow.\n\nAnd as he stood there, doubting still, for the laughter in his waking\nears, whether he woke or slept, he looked before him, and saw in the\nmoonlight the figure of a woman, running towards him: and instantly\nhe knew her to be Shr\u00ed.  For out of the shadow of her floating hair\nher great eyes glittered in the moon like the blade of his own sword,\nand flashed into the night before her like lightning from a dark blue\ncloud.  And he ran to meet her with a shout of joy.  But Shr\u00ed, when\nshe saw him coming, stopped short, and began to laugh like one\npossessed by a vampire.  And crying: What, another! she turned and\nfled away from him faster than ever, covering her eyes with her\nhands.  But Umra-Singh was so astonished, that he stood like a tree,\nrooted to the ground: saying to himself: Is it reality, or is it a\ndream?  Yonder she flies from me in terror as if I were an enemy.\n\nAnd then, seized with frenzy, he began to pursue her, calling aloud:\nShr\u00ed!  Shr\u00ed!  So they ran through the wood in the moonlight, in and\nout of the trees, like a spotted panther and a black antelope.  And\nsuddenly, Shr\u00ed slipped and fell.  And a tawny lion leaped out of the\nwood, before the eyes of Umra-Singh, and stood over her as she lay.\nThen Umra-Singh turned white with fear, and uttered a groan.  And in\na moment he reached them as he ran, and struck at the lion, with all\nhis force, a blow of his sword.  Then lo! that phantom lion vanished,\nfor he was but an illusion of the crafty Nightwalker.  But the sword\nfell, sharp and true, on the shoulder of Shr\u00ed, and cut through to her\nheart.\n\nThen Umra-Singh fell on his knees beside her with a wail, and took\nhis darling in his arms, while her blood gushed out over him like a\nriver, carrying away her life.  And as his hot tears fell on her face\nlike rain, Shr\u00ed opened her dying eyes: and instantly they were full\nof peace, for she knew that it was her husband at last.  And she said\nslowly: Weep not for me, O my lord, for I have attained the\nemancipation of union with thee.  All day long, I have sought thee:\nbut I have found thee in the evening, before my sun goes down: that\nis enough.\n\n\n\n\nDawn.\n\n\n\n\nAnd at that very moment, the curse came to an end.  Then those two\nerring lovers regained their immortal natures.  And they looked at\none another, dazed and bewildered, for they thought that they had\nawoken from a dream.  And their spirits rose out of those mortal\nbodies which they had abandoned, and soared away to their heavenly\nhome, locked in each other's arms.\n\nBut Maheshwara, from his seat on Kail\u00e0s, saw them go.  And perceiving\nall, by the power of his mystical intuition, he said to himself:\nThere are those two foolish lovers rejoicing to have awoken from a\ndream; not knowing that it was but a dream within a dream, and that\nthey are still asleep.  And he laughed aloud: and the thunder of the\nshout of his laughter rolled and reverberated, and rattled in the\nblue hollows of Him\u00e1laya, like the sound of a drum.\n\n\n\n\nPRINTED BY JAMES PARKER AND CO.,\n\nCROWN YARD, OXFORD.","title":"The descent of the sun: A cycle of birth","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":24895}