But of all that I conveyed to her in such surreptitious fashion, I said nothing, so that Somadatta was by no means enchanted with this specimen of my poetic skill. It seemed to him much too simple, and he informed me that I ought certainly to mention how the god Kama, alarmed at my asceticism, had by his magic skill created this picture with which to tempt me and that by it I had been wholly vanquished—Somadatta, like so many others, being most of all taken with his own wit.
After he had carried off the picture, I felt myself in a particularly exalted and energetic frame of mind, for a step had now been taken which, in its consequences, might lead to the longed-for goal of all my happiness. I was now able to eat and drink, and, after a light meal, I took down the vina from the wall and drew from its chords melodies that were sometimes no more than tuneful sighs, but anon grew exulting and joyous, while I repeated the heavenly name of Vasitthi in a thousand endearing accents.
So Somadatta found me when a few hours later he came in with the picture in his hand. “The ball-playing destroyer of thy peace has also betaken herself to verse,” said he, “but I cannot say that I am able to find great store of matter in what she has written, although the handwriting may be considered unusually pretty.”
And it was indeed pretty. I saw before me—with what joy of heart, how shall I say?—a second verse of four lines written in characters like sprays of tender blossoms swayed by summer zephyrs, and looking as if they had been breathed upon the picture. Somadatta had, of course, been unable to find any meaning in them, for they referred solely to that which he had not perceived, and showed me that my fair one had correctly read my strophe in every direction—backwards, upwards, and downwards. It gave me an exalted idea of her education and knowledge, no less than did the revelation of her rare spirit in the graciously humorous turn she gave to my fiery declaration, which she chose to accept as a piece of gallantry or an effusion to which too much importance should not be attached.
I now attempted, I confess, to read her verse in the crisscross fashion which had been possible with mine, in the hope that I might find in it a covert confession or other secret message, perhaps even the invitation to a rendezvous, but in vain. And I told myself at once that this was in truth but a convincing proof of the highest and most refined feminine virtue; my darling showed me that she was perfectly capable of understanding the subtlety and daring ways of the masculine mind but could not be induced to imitate them.
Besides which I found immediate comfort for my disappointed expectations in Somadatta’s next words.
“But this fair one with the beautiful brows, if she be no great poetess, has really a good heart. She knows that for a long time I have not seen her foster-sister, my beloved Medini, save at large social gatherings, where only the eyes may speak and even these but by stealth. And so she has arranged a meeting for tomorrow night, on the terrace of her father’s palace. Tonight, it is, I regret to say, not possible, as her father gives a banquet; so till tomorrow we must have patience. Perhaps thou wouldst like to accompany me on this adventure?”
As he said this, he laughed with much slyness and I laughed with him, and assured him that he should have my company. In the best of humours we took the chessboard which was leaning against the wall and were about to beguile the time by engaging in this animating game when a manservant came in and announced that a stranger wished to speak with me.
In the entrance hall I found the ambassador’s servant, who informed me that I must prepare for departure and come to the courtyard of the palace that very night, bringing my wagons, in order to be able to start with the first glimmer of daylight on the morrow.
My despair knew no bounds. I imagined I must in some mysterious way have offended one of the deities. As soon as I was able to collect my thoughts I dashed away to the ambassador and filled his ears with lies about some business that I had not yet arranged, and that could not possibly be brought to a satisfactory conclusion in so short a time. With hot tears I besought him to put off the journey for but a single day.
“But thou saidst eight days ago that thou wert ready,” he replied.
I assured him that afterwards, and quite unexpectedly, the opportunity of gaining a valuable prize had presented itself. And that was indeed no falsehood, for what gain could mean more to me than the conquest of this incomparable maiden?
So I finally succeeded in wiling this one day from him.
The hours of the next day wore quickly away, filled as they were with the preparations necessary for our journey, so that the time, in spite of my longing, did not drag. When evening came, our carts stood loaded in the courtyard. Everything was prepared for yoking in the oxen, so that, as soon as I should appear—that is, before daybreak—we might be able to start.
VI
On the Terrace of the Sorrowless
Now that night and darkness had come, we
