Chapter Thirty Six

When Tilottama and the maidservant had departed from the chamber, Ayesha came and seated herself upon the couch; there was no other place to sit; Jagatsingh remained standing near her.

Ayesha drew a rose from her braid and began plucking its petals one by one with her nails, saying, "Prince, from thy manner it seems thou wouldst speak somewhat to me. If there be any service wherein I may assist thee, do not hesitate to ask; I shall be most glad to be of use to thee."

The prince replied, "Daughter of the Nawab, I have no particular want at this moment. It was not for that reason I desired to see thee. What I would say is this — reduced as I am to so wretched a state, I do not hope that we shall meet again; methinks this is our last meeting. The debt under which I lie towards thee — how shall I repay it in words? And that I shall ever repay it in deeds, I dare not trust to fortune. Yet this one boon I crave: if ever it be in my power, if ever better days should come, do not hesitate to command me in whatsoever thou desirest."

Jagatsingh's voice was so tender and full of despair that Ayesha herself was moved by it. She said, "Why dost thou give way to such hopelessness? The misfortune of one day does not last into the next."

Jagatsingh said, "I am not without hope — but I no longer wish to hope. I have no desire to continue this life save by quitting it altogether. I have no wish to leave this prison. Thou dost not know all the grief in my heart, nor can I make it known to thee."

The piteous tone in which the prince spoke filled Ayesha with wonder and with deeper sorrow. In that moment the manner of the Nawab's daughter was put aside; all distance fell away; as a tender woman, with a woman's gentle care, she took the prince's hand in the soft blossom of her own — and then, releasing it, looked up steadfastly into his face and said, "Prince! Why does this fierce grief dwell within thy heart? Do not regard me as a stranger. If thou grant me courage, I will say — is Birendrasingh's daughter not—"

Before Ayesha could finish her words, the prince said, "Let us speak no more of that. That dream is broken."

Ayesha was silent; Jagatsingh was silent; both remained silent for a long while. Ayesha bent her face downward over his hand.

Suddenly the prince started; a drop of water fell upon his hand. Jagatsingh cast his gaze downward and, beholding the lotus-face of Ayesha, perceived that she was weeping; bright tears were streaming freely down her glowing cheeks.

The prince said in wonder, "What is this, Ayesha? Thou art weeping?"

Ayesha made no reply, but slowly, slowly tore the rose to pieces until it was utterly destroyed. When the flower lay in a hundred fragments, she said, "Prince! I had not thought that I should take leave of thee thus today. I can endure much — but I cannot leave thee here alone in this prison to suffer the torment of such anguish of heart. Jagatsingh! Come with me outside; there are horses in the stable — I will give thee one; go this very night to thine own camp."

Had the goddess Bhavani herself appeared in that instant in bodily form to bestow a boon, the prince could not have been more astonished. At first he could find no words. Ayesha spoke again: "Jagatsingh! Prince! Come."

After a long silence Jagatsingh said, "Ayesha! Thou wouldst set me free from this prison?"

Ayesha replied, "This very moment."

Prince. Without thy father's knowledge?

Ayesha. Do not concern thyself with that; once thou art at thy camp — I shall inform him.

"But the guards — why would they let me pass?"

Ayesha tore the jewelled necklace from her throat and held it up, saying, "For the temptation of this reward, the guards will stand aside."

The prince said again, "Should this become known, thou wilt suffer punishment at thy father's hands."

"What harm in that?"

"Ayesha! I will not go."

Ayesha's face grew pale. Wounded, she asked, "Why?"

Prince. I have received from thee even my life itself; that which would bring thee suffering, I will never do.

Ayesha said, her voice nearly choked, "Art thou certain thou wilt not go?"

The prince replied, "Go thou alone."

Ayesha fell silent once more. Again the tears began to flow freely from her eyes; with great effort she strove to restrain her weeping.

The prince, seeing Ayesha's noiseless grief, was filled with wonder. He said, "Ayesha! Why dost thou weep?"

Ayesha spoke not. The prince said again, "Ayesha! Honour my entreaty — if the cause of thy weeping may be spoken aloud, declare it to me. If the giving of my life would remove the cause of thy silent sorrow, I would do it. That I accepted this captivity has never heretofore caused tears to spring to Ayesha's eyes. Many a prisoner has suffered in thy father's gaol beside myself."

Ayesha did not reply at once to the prince's words, but wiped her tears upon the hem of her garment. After remaining still and motionless for a moment, she said, "Prince! I shall weep no more."

The prince, having received no answer to his question, was somewhat aggrieved. Both fell silent again, each bending their face downward.

Then upon the wall of the chamber fell the shadow of another person; no one observed it. A third figure drew near and stood close beside them, yet still they did not perceive it. Standing motionless as a pillar for a moment, the newcomer then said in a voice trembling with anger, "Daughter of the Nawab! This is admirable indeed."

Both raised their faces — it was Osman.

Osman had learnt the particulars from his attendant, the ring-bearer, and had come in search of Ayesha. When the prince saw Osman in that place, he was alarmed for Ayesha's sake, lest she be rebuked or dishonoured before Osman or Katlu Khan. The contemptuous tone in which Osman had spoken his taunt seemed to give grounds for such a fear. The moment Ayesha heard that taunt, she perceived in full the import of Osman's words. For one instant her face suffused with crimson. No other sign of agitation appeared. In a composed voice she replied, "What is admirable, Osman?"

Osman said in his former manner, "That the Nawab's daughter should keep midnight company with a prisoner is admirable. That she should enter a gaol at midnight in irregular fashion on a prisoner's behalf is admirable."

This reproach was beyond endurance to Ayesha's pure heart. She looked Osman full in the face and answered him. Never had Osman heard so proud a voice in Ayesha's throat.

Ayesha said, "To come alone into this prison at midnight and to converse with this prisoner — that is my pleasure. Whether my conduct be praiseworthy or blameworthy is no concern of thine."

Osman was astonished, and more than astonished — he was enraged. He said, "Whether it be thy concern or mine, thou shalt hear from the Nawab's lips to-morrow morning."

Ayesha said as before, "When my father questions me, I shall answer him then. That is not thy anxiety."

Osman taunted her as before: "And if I should question thee?"

Ayesha rose to her feet. For a moment she gazed upon Osman with the same steady look as before; her large eyes seemed to grow yet larger. Her lotus-face appeared to open into fuller bloom. Her head, wreathed in its darkness of hair black as bees, inclined slightly to one side; her heart surged and trembled like dense water-weed tossed upon a wave; and in a very clear voice Ayesha said, "Osman, if thou dost ask me, then my answer is this — this prisoner is the lord of my life!"

Had a thunderbolt fallen in that instant into the chamber, neither Rajput nor Pathan could have been more shaken. It was as though someone had kindled a lamp in the darkness of the prince's mind. He now understood the meaning of Ayesha's silent weeping. Osman had already harboured some faint suspicion of this sort, and it was indeed for that reason that he had taunted Ayesha so — but that Ayesha should speak the words openly and freely before him, this was beyond even the compass of his dreams. Osman remained without answer.

Ayesha continued to speak: "Hear me, Osman — I say it once again — this prisoner is the lord of my life; so long as I live, no other shall find place within my heart. Should the place of execution be drenched to-morrow with his blood—" As she spoke, Ayesha shuddered. "Even then thou shalt see that I shall consecrate his image within the temple of my heart and worship it until the end of my days. Should we never meet again after this moment, should he to-morrow go forth free and stand amidst a hundred women, should he speak scornfully of Ayesha's name — still I shall remain his loving and devoted handmaiden. Hear me yet further; bethink thee what I have been saying to him alone all this while: I was saying, I will subdue the guards by words and by gold; I will give him a horse from my father's stable; let the prisoner depart for his father's camp this very hour. The prisoner himself refused to flee. Had he not so refused, thou wouldst not by now have seen even the tip of his nail."

Ayesha wiped her tears once more. After remaining silent for a little while, she began to speak in a different tone: "Osman, I pain thee by speaking all these things — forgive the offence. Thou dost bear affection towards me, and I towards thee; this conduct of mine is unworthy. Yet thou hast to-day counted Ayesha faithless. Whatever other fault Ayesha may commit, she is not faithless. That which Ayesha does, she can speak of with a free voice. I have told thee this moment to thy face; if need be, I will say it to-morrow before my father."

Then turning to Jagatsingh, she said, "Prince, thou too must forgive the offence. Had Osman not distressed me to-night, the heat of this burning heart would never have been revealed to thee, would never have come to any mortal ear."

The prince stood in silence; his heart was consumed within him.

Osman too spoke not. Ayesha continued: "Osman, I say again — if I have done wrong, forgive me the wrong. I am thy affectionate sister as before; do not, because thou art my brother, diminish the love of former days. By the misfortune of my fate I have cast myself into a sea of anguish — do not, by withdrawing thy brotherly tenderness, plunge me into bottomless waters."

So saying, without waiting for the return of the handmaiden, she went out alone. Osman remained for some moments as one bewildered, without a word, and then departed to his own chamber.