Chapter Twenty Nine

Kapalkundala, going forth from the house, entered into the depth of the forest. First she went into the ruined dwelling. There she saw the Brahman. Had it been day, she would have seen that his countenance was very pale. The Brahman-disguised one said to her, "The Kapalik may come hither, hereabouts no word is safe. Come to another place." In the forest there was a small clear space, ringed about with trees; the midst of it was open; from it ran a single pathway forth. The Brahman-disguised one led Kapalkundala thither. When both had taken their seats, the Brahman-disguised one said,

"First will I declare myself. How far my speech is to be believed, that shalt thou consider for thyself. When thou wast coming with thy husband from the country of Hijli, that night, upon the way, there was a meeting with a yavana maiden. Dost thou recall it?"

Kapalkundala said, "She that gave me ornaments?"

She that wore the Brahman's guise said, "The same am I."

Kapalkundala was greatly amazed. Lutfunnisa, beholding her amazement, said, "There is yet matter for greater wonder — I am thy co-wife."

Kapalkundala, struck with marvel, said, "How is this?"

Lutfunnisa began from the beginning to declare who she was. Her marriage, the loss of caste, her abandonment by her husband, Dhaka, Agra, Jahangir, Meherunnisa, the leaving of Agra, her sojourn at Saptagrama, her meeting with Nabakumar, Nabakumar's conduct, her coming in disguise into the forest at yester-evening, her meeting with the homa-performer — all this she told. At this point Kapalkundala asked,

"With what intent didst thou desire to come in disguise into our house?"

Lutfunnisa said, "With the intent to work an unending separation between thee and thy husband."

Kapalkundala fell to musing. She said, "By what means wouldst thou have brought it about?"

Lutfunnisa. For the present I should have raised in thy husband a doubt of thy chastity. But of that no more; that path have I forsaken. Now, if thou wilt do according to my counsel, then by means of thee shall my desire be accomplished — and yet shall good come to thee.

Kapa. Of whom didst thou hear the name on the lips of the homa-doer?

Lu. Thine own name. To learn whether he made the homa for thy weal or thy woe, I made obeisance and sat down beside him. Until his rite was ended, there did I sit. At the close of the homa I asked, as if by feigning, what was the purpose of the homa wherein thy name had place. Conversing a while with him, I came to know that the working of thine ill was the purpose of the homa. The same was my purpose. This too I made known to him. On the instant we were bound, each to assist the other. For closer counsel he led me into the ruined house. There he laid bare his mind. Thy death is what he doth desire. Therein lay no benefit for me. In this life I have wrought only sin, but not so deep into the way of sin am I fallen as to compass the death of a maiden in whom is no fault. To that I gave no consent. At that very time wert thou come thither. Methinks thou must have heard somewhat.

Kapa. Some such dispute did I hear.

Lu. The man, accounting me a foolish ignorant youth, would needs give me counsel. To know how the matter ended, that I might bring thee fit tidings, I left thee hidden within the wood.

Kapa. And wherefore afterwards didst thou not return?

Lu. He spoke much; in hearing his tale at length there was delay. That man thou knowest well. Who he is — canst thou divine?

Kapa. My foster-father, the Kapalik.

Lu. The very same. The Kapalik told the whole story — how at the first he had found thee upon the seashore, had reared thee there, of Nabakumar's coming, of thy flight with him. All that had befallen after thy flight he likewise made known. Of those things thou knowest naught. For thy knowledge, in full I tell them.

So saying, Lutfunnisa told all — the Kapalik's fall from the summit, the breaking of his arms, the dream. Hearing the dream, Kapalkundala started, shuddered — within her bosom there was the trembling as of lightning. Lutfunnisa went on,

"The Kapalik's resolve is fixed — to obey Bhavani's command. His arms are without strength; therefore another's help is needful to him. Taking me for a Brahman's son, in hope of making me his fellow he told me all. To this evil work I have not as yet assented. What is in the mind of this evil-souled one I cannot say, but I trust that I never shall assent. Rather will I set myself against his design; in such intent did I come to meet with thee. Yet this thing have I not done altogether without thought of self. Thy life I give thee; do thou do somewhat for me."

Kapalkundala said, "What shall I do?"

Lu. Give me my life also — forsake thy husband.

Kapalkundala spoke not for a long while. After long silence she said, "Forsaking my husband, whither shall I go?"

Lu. Into another country — far, far away — I will give thee a palace — I will give thee wealth — I will give thee men-servants and maid-servants; thou shalt live as a queen.

Kapalkundala fell again to musing. Through all the earth did she look with the eye of her mind — nowhere did she see any face. She looked within her own heart — there too she did not see Nabakumar; wherefore then should she bar the way of Lutfunnisa's happiness? To Lutfunnisa she said,

"Whether thou hast done me a good service or no, that I cannot yet discern. Of palace, of wealth, of estate, of men-servants and maid-servants I have no need. Why should I bar the path of thy happiness? Let thy desire be fulfilled — from the morrow thou shalt hear no tidings of her that stood in thy way. Of the forest I came, to the forest will I return."

Lutfunnisa was struck with wonder; no such ready consent had she looked for. Entranced, she said, "Sister! mayst thou live long; thou hast given me my life. Yet will I not let thee go forth helpless. At the dawn of the morrow I will send to thee one of my trusty and clever serving-women. Go thou with her. At Bardhaman is a friend of mine, of the foremost station — she will satisfy all thy need."

So absorbed in mind were Lutfunnisa and Kapalkundala in their converse, that of the peril before them they perceived nothing. At the head of that forest path which ran out from the place of their retreat, the Kapalik and Nabakumar stood and cast upon them looks of fearful import; of this they perceived nothing. Nabakumar and the Kapalik, indeed, had only their sight upon them; but by ill fortune, from that distance, naught of their discourse reached the ear of either. Were the eye and the ear of man of equal range, who shall say whether the streams of human sorrow would be allayed or increased thereby? The fashioning of the world is fashioned with a strange and wondrous craft.

Nabakumar beheld Kapalkundala with her hair undone. Before Kapalkundala had been his, in such fashion she had bound her tresses. Again he saw that those undone tresses had fallen upon the back of the Brahman youth and mingled with the locks that hung upon his shoulders. So ample was the mass of Kapalkundala's hair, and so near, for the better hearing of low-voiced converse, did the two sit together, that the unfolding of Kapalkundala's hair reached even to Lutfunnisa's back. This they perceived not. Beholding it, Nabakumar slowly sank to the ground.

The Kapalik, seeing this, unfastened from his waist a coconut vessel and said, "My son! thou losest strength; drink thou of this great elixir, it is the grace of Bhavani. Drinking, thou shalt regain thy strength."

The Kapalik held the vessel to Nabakumar's lips. Heedlessly he drank, and quenched a grievous thirst. Nabakumar knew not that this sweet-flavoured drink was a fierce and potent wine prepared by the Kapalik's own hand. Upon the drinking thereof he was strengthened.

Meanwhile Lutfunnisa, in soft tones as before, went on to say to Kapalkundala,

"Sister! that which thou hast done, I have no power to requite; yet, if for ever I have a place in thy memory, that also is my joy. Of the ornaments which I gave thee, I have heard that thou hast distributed them among the poor. About me now is nothing. Bethinking me of another need of the morrow, I had brought hidden in my hair a single ring; by the mercy of the Lord of the world that sinful need hath not come to be. This ring do thou keep. Hereafter, beholding the ring, remember thy yavani sister. To-day, if thy husband ask thee whence thou hadst this ring, say that Lutfunnisa gave it." So saying, Lutfunnisa drew from her own finger a ring purchased with great wealth and placed it in Kapalkundala's hand. This too did Nabakumar see. The Kapalik upheld him; and again, seeing him tremble, made him once more drink of the wine. The wine, mounting to Nabakumar's brain, began to overturn his nature, began to tear up even the tenderest root of affection.

Kapalkundala, taking leave of Lutfunnisa, set forth toward the house. Then Nabakumar and the Kapalik, by a path hidden from Lutfunnisa, began to follow Kapalkundala.