Chapter Sixteen

Bimala entered the temple, sat down, and composed herself for a moment. Then, bowing, she made obeisance first to Shaileshwar and then to the young prince. For some time both were silent. How was either to speak, and in what words give voice to what lay in the heart? Both were in a strait. How to begin?

Bimala was well versed in the art of such delicate negotiations. She smiled a little and said, "Your Highness, to-night by the grace of Shaileshwar I have had the fortune of beholding thee. I was afraid to come alone through the plain at this hour of night; but now that I find thee within the temple my heart takes courage."

The prince said, "Is all well with you?"

Bimala's intention was first to ascertain whether the prince was truly enamoured of Tilottama, and afterwards to say what she had to say. With this in mind she replied, "It is to pray for our welfare that I have come to worship at Shaileshwar. But now I perceive that thy worship has already satisfied the god — mine he will not accept. With thy leave, I shall return."

Prince. Go, then. Yet it is not fitting that thou shouldst go alone — I will see thee on thy way.

Bimala saw that the prince had not spent his whole life learning the sword-craft alone. She answered, "Why is it not fitting for me to go alone?"

Prince. There are divers dangers on the road. Bi. Then I shall go to the great Maharaja Man Singh and lay my complaint before him.

The prince asked, "For what reason?"

Bi. For what reason? I have a grievance against him. The commander he has appointed is not able to keep the road safe for us. He is not equal to the defeat of the enemy.

The prince answered with a smile, "The commander might reply that to vanquish a particular enemy is beyond even the power of the gods — how much less that of man! As an instance: the great Mahadeva himself reduced the god of love to ashes in the forest of austerities; yet a fortnight ago that same Kama played considerable havoc with him even within this very temple."

Bimala smiled a little and said, "And upon whom was this havoc wrought?"

The prince said, "Upon the commander himself."

Bimala said, "Why should the Maharaja believe so improbable a tale?"

Prince. I have a witness. Bi. And who, sir, is this witness? Prince. One of virtuous character —

Before the prince could finish, Bimala said, "That handmaiden is of most indifferent character. Be pleased to call me Bimala."

The prince said, "Bimala herself is my witness."

Bi. Bimala will give no such testimony. Prince. Very likely; for she who forgets her own promise within a fortnight — is she apt to give faithful witness? Bi. Sir, be pleased to remind me what promise I made. Prince. Thy friend's name and lineage.

Bimala suddenly put aside her playful manner. She said gravely, "Your Highness, I am reluctant to tell thee. What if, when thou knowest, thou art made unhappy?"

The prince was silent a moment in thought; his bantering mood left him. At last he said, "Bimala — is there indeed cause in the true answer for my unhappiness?"

Bimala said, "There is."

The prince fell once more into deep thought; after a moment he said, "Be that as it may — grant me my heart's desire. The unbearable suspense I now endure is worse than any other suffering that could befall me. If the fear thou art hinting at proves true, even that were better than this torment — at least I should have something by which to bring my heart to rest. Bimala, I have not come to see thee merely out of idle curiosity — I have no leisure now for idle curiosity. For the past half-month I have rested on no bed but the back of a horse. I have come because my heart has grown too sorely troubled."

It was for just such words as these that Bimala had made all this endeavour. To draw him out a little further she said, "Your Highness, thou art wise in statecraft — consider well whether, in time of war, it befits thee to fix thy heart upon a lady so difficult to attain. I speak for the good of both — strive to forget my friend; in the ardour of battle thou wilt surely prevail."

A smile of sorrowful longing came to the prince's lips. He said, "Forget whom? The image of thy friend, seen but once, is graven ever deeper in my heart — the heart itself must be consumed before that image can be effaced. Men say my heart is stone; what is graven upon stone endures until the stone itself is destroyed. Speak not to me of war, Bimala! From the day I beheld thy friend I have been in nothing but battle. On the field of battle, in the camp, I have not forgotten that face for a single instant; when a Pathan lifted his sword to strike off my head, my first thought was that if I died I should never see that face again — that I had seen it but once and should see it no more. Bimala, where shall I go to behold thy friend?"

What more did Bimala need to hear? She said, "Thou wilt find my friend at the fort of Mandarun. Tilottama is the daughter of Birendrasingh."

It seemed to Jagatsingh as if he had been struck by the bite of the black serpent. He stood leaning on his sword, his head bowed. After a long silence he drew a deep breath and said, "Thy words have proved true. Tilottama can never be mine. I shall go to the field of battle and offer up the desire of my happiness in the blood of the enemy."

Bimala, seeing the prince's anguish, said, "Your Highness, if love deserved its reward, thou wouldst be worthy to win Tilottama. Why despair so utterly? To-day Fate is unkind — to-morrow Fate may be gracious."

Hope is ever sweet-spoken. Even in the darkest hour she whispers softly in the ear of man, "The storm and the cloud do not last for ever — why art thou cast down? Listen to me."

Jagatsingh hearkened to those words of hope. Who can know the will of God? Who can read beforehand what the Creator has written? What in this world is truly impossible? What strange and unlooked-for thing has not come to pass in this world?

The prince listened to what Hope had to say.

He said, "Whatever may befall — my mind is greatly disordered to-day; I cannot tell what I ought or ought not to do. What is fated will come to pass in time — who shall alter what the Creator has written? I can but speak the inmost feeling of my heart. By this Shaileshwar I witness, I will love none other than Tilottama. And this I beg of thee — tell my friend everything I have said; and tell her too that I ask but once more to behold her — only once — and I pledge my word I shall ask this favour no second time."

Joy broke upon Bimala's countenance. She said, "In what manner will Your Highness receive my friend's reply?" The prince said, "I cannot put thee to so much trouble again and again — yet if thou wilt come once more and meet me in this temple, I shall be for ever in thy debt. Some day Jagatsingh may be able to repay thee."

Bimala said, "Your Highness, I am thy servant in all things; but I am sorely afraid to walk this road alone at night. It was only to keep my promise that I came to-night at all. Now that the country round about has been thrown into disorder by the enemy, I shall be very much afraid to come again."

The prince thought for a moment and then said, "If thou dost not think it an injury to thyself, I will go with thee to the fort of Mandarun. I will wait at a suitable place there — do thou bring me the answer."

Bimala said with a glad heart, "Then let us go."

Both were moving to leave the temple when, without, they heard the sound of cautious, deliberate footsteps. The prince, somewhat startled, asked Bimala, "Is there anyone with thee?"

Bimala said, "No."

"Then whose footstep was that? I fear that someone has been listening to our conversation from a concealed place."

With this he went outside and made a circuit of the temple on all four sides — but there was no one anywhere to be found.