Several flowers had fallen to the ground in the avenue of trees. Medini, who sat beside Somadatta, on a bench not far from us, sprang to her feet, and, holding up several yellow asoka blossoms, came towards us, calling out—
“Look, sister! The flowers are beginning to fall already. Soon there will be enough of them for your bath.”
“You don’t mean those yellow things! Vasitthi may not, on any account, put them into her bath-water,” exclaimed my mischievous friend—“that is, if her flower-like body is to blossom in harmony with her love. I assure you, only such scarlet flowers as that one which friend Kamanita has just concealed in his robe, should be used. For it is written in the golden Book of Love: ‘Saffron yellow affection it is called, when it attracts attention, indeed, but, notwithstanding, later fades away; scarlet, however, when it does not later fade but becomes only too apparent.’ ”
At the same time he and Medini laughed in their merry, confidential way.
Vasitthi, however answered gravely, though with her sweet smile, and gently but firmly pressed my hand—
“Thou dost mistake, dear Somadatta! My love has the colour of no flower. For I have heard it said that the colour of the truest love is not red but black—black as Çiva’s throat became when the god swallowed the poison which would otherwise have destroyed all created beings. And so it must ever be. True love must be able to withstand the poison of life, and must be willing to taste the bitterest, in order that the loved one may be spared. And from that bitterest it will assuredly prefer to choose its colour, rather than from any pleasures, however dazzling.”
In such wise spoke my beloved Vasitthi, that night under the sorrowless trees.
VII
In the Ravine
Deeply moved by these vivid memories, the pilgrim became silent for a short time. Then he sighed, drew his hand over his forehead, and went on with his narrative.
In short, O brother, I went about during this whole time as if intoxicated with bliss, and my feet scarcely seemed to touch the earth. On one occasion I was obliged to laugh aloud because I heard that there were people who called this world a vale of woe, and who directed their thoughts and wishes to the not being born again among men. “What arrant fools, Somadatta,” I cried, “as if there could be a more perfect abode of bliss than the Terrace of the Sorrowless!”
But beneath the terrace was the abyss.
Down into this we had just scrambled, as I called out those foolish words, and, as if I were to be shown that even the greatest of earthly pleasures has its bitterness, we were that very instant assailed by several armed men. How many there were of them, it was not possible for us, in the darkness, to distinguish. Fortunately, we were able to cover our backs by placing them against the wall of rock; and, with the calming consciousness that we were now only threatened in front, we began to fight for life and love. We bit our teeth together and were silent as the night, the while we parried and thrust as coolly as possible; but our opponents howled like devils in order to urge one another on, and we believed we could distinguish eight to ten of them. Even if they now found a couple of better swordsmen before them than they had expected, our situation was yet sufficiently grave. Two of them, however, soon measured their length on the ground, and their bodies hindered the fighting of the others, who feared to stumble over them and so be delivered up to the tender mercies of our sword-points. Then they withdrew, as we imagined, a few steps: we certainly no longer felt their hot breath in our faces.
I whispered a few words to Somadatta, and we moved a couple of paces sideward, in the hope that our assailants, imagining us in the old spot, would make a sudden leap forward, and, in so doing, would run against the wall of rock, and break the points of their swords, while ours should find an energetic lodgment between their ribs. Although we observed the greatest caution, however, some faint sound must have awakened their suspicion. For the blind attack we hoped for did not ensue; but presently I saw a narrow streak of light strike the wall, and also became aware that this ray was emitted from a lamp-wick, evidently fixed in a carefully opened holder, beside which a warty nose and a cunning half-closed eye were to be seen.
As the bamboo pole by the help of which we had scaled the terrace front was still in my left hand, I made a manful thrust with it. There was a loud shriek, and the disappearance of the ray, no less than the clirr of the small lamp as it fell to the earth, bore witness to the efficacy of my stroke; and this brief respite we made use of to get away as rapidly as possible in the direction whence we had come. We knew that here the gorge became gradually narrower and the ascent somewhat steep, and that, finally, one could scramble up to the top without any special exertion. But it was nevertheless a piece of great good fortune that our would-be murderers very soon gave up the pursuit in the darkness; for, at the final ascent, my strength threatened to give way, and I felt that I was bleeding copiously from several wounds. My friend was also wounded, though less severely.
On the level once more, we cut up my robe and temporarily bound up our wounds, and then, leaning on Somadatta’s arm, I fortunately succeeded in reaching home, where I was obliged to pass several weeks on a bed of pain.
There I now lay, tortured by threefold trouble. My wounds and the fever together consumed my body, and a burning longing for
