CHAPTER XXII
FLIGHT
For several days after this Parvati did not come to visit me. I saw herat a distance, walking in the gardens, always accompanied by the blackBaladji-Rao, whose white turban striped with gold showed brilliantlyagainst the dark green shrubbery.
Perhaps the Princess intended to punish me for having shown myself sobitter and full of hatred, or perhaps she dreaded some outbreak oftemper on my part; but her absence only embittered me still more, andmy hatred increased for him who had deprived me of her presence, andthe desire to murder him haunted me day and night.--
The Palace was all in confusion with preparations for the wedding. Theycame to try on me a mantle of silver brocade embroidered with pearlsand turquoise, a crown of feathers, and a howdah of gold fillagree, inwhich the bridal couple were to be seated on the day of the marriage;for to me had been assigned the honour of carrying them in the greattriumphal procession which was to traverse all Golconda.
But in proportion as the day approached my longing to kill the Princeincreased to such intensity, that to avoid committing so fearfula crime, I took a painful resolution.... I resolved to leave thePalace--and to fly!
Leave Parvati! Leave the King and Saphire-of-Heaven! They who had mademy life so sweet--so free--so happy! Go wandering about the world,exposed to whatever might befall me, and perhaps become once more amere savage.... How could I endure such misfortune--such misery?
But I realized that I must sacrifice myself to prevent bringing aterrible catastrophe on those who had been so kind to me. ShouldBaladji-Rao be assassinated in Golconda, war would again be declared,fearful reprisals would be made, and my benefactors ruined. I had donemy best to curb my feelings, and resign myself to what I could nothelp; but a sight of the Prince of Mysore, no matter at what distance,caused a cloud of rage to mount to my brain which deprived me ofreason, and impelled me irresistibly to destroy him.
I must go. I must give to my beloved Parvati this last proof of mydevotion.
The night before the wedding I waited for the moon to set, and then Inoiselessly opened the great door of my stable, and stole softly out.
For a moment I thought of going for a last time under the window of thePrincess's chamber, and of gathering some lotus flowers and fasteningthem to her balcony, as I had often done before; that would have beena sort of "good-bye" and she would have understood. But my heart washeavy, and my eyes dim; I feared if I did so I might give way, andbe unable to carry out my resolution, and leave. So, I crossed thecourtyard quickly, lifted the bar and the chain on the gateway, andthen, after fastening them once more to the best of my ability, I wentforth.
A great silence rested everywhere on Golconda; all was dark and empty.My head hung down with shame and sorrow, and as I walked my big tearsfell on the road, so that I could have been traced by them, if the dusthad not at once dried them up!
The day was dawning when I drew near the forest which had so often beenthe goal of my excursions with the little Princess.
In those days, when the dusky outline of the trees and thickets shoneout against the brilliant rose-colour of the sky, how delighted was Ito entertain the laughing Princess with my gay frolics! And now, howsadly and mournfully was I seeking its somber shade! My breast swelledwith huge sighs--elephantine sighs--which escaped me with such terriblesounds that the beasts of the forest fled away, frightened.
I was so overcome that I was obliged to stop, and had I been a manI might, like the Court Poet, have put into verse the emotions ofmy heart, and the hoarse groans which burst from me could have beentranslated thus:
"_Alas! I shall see thee no more, dearest Parvati:_ _Smile of my life, Sun of my days, Moon of my night_! _I shall see thee no more... Alas!_
"_No more will thy soft hand stroke me!_ _Nor thy gentle voice speak the friendly words_ _That sounded sweeter to me than the sweetest music!_
_"But I leave thee to avoid committing a fearful crime._
_"Thou, no doubt wilt soon have forgotten me._ _Thou wilt always be the divine Princess Parvati_, _Loved and blessed by all_! _But_ I, _deprived of thee_, _Shall be only a poor wandering brute_, _With naught to comfort me_ _But the remembrance of former happiness!..."_
Yes, that is how the Poet would have lamented--and I also if I had notbeen an elephant!
I went on deeper and deeper into the forest, and the thought came to meof asking help of the good Hermit who had so kindly received us on theday when I attempted to carry off the Princess, and when the serpentand the storm had brought me to repent of my wrong doing.
Certainly this pious old man, who had so long studied the lives of theSaints, and knew that one must be no less pitiful to animals than tohuman beings, would not repel me, and perhaps his comforting wordswould heal somewhat the sufferings which were too much for me.
As I advanced the woods seemed changed; the birds no longer sang, theflowers were pale and withered, and even the trees were brown and dying.
"It is because I myself am so sad," thought I at first; "that is thereason the forest seems so dreary; but by and by, when I shall havefound the Hermit, and his words will have imparted to me a littlecourage, I shall hear the birds sing again, and see the flowers I usedto gather for her!"
Alas! I was mistaken. Like myself the forest had really lost all itsgayety; the birds would not sing, nor the flowers bloom any more. Isearched in every direction, but could not find the Hermit; at last Idiscovered, buried in the grass, a few half-decayed planks which aloneremained to mark the spot where the hut had once stood. I saw that ithad been abandoned, and left to be destroyed by the winds and the rain.
The good Hermit, with whom I had hoped to find a refuge, had left theforest; he had gone to seek another hermitage, or had taken up the lifeof a wandering mendicant, such as the Sacred Books sometimes ordain forBrahmans; or perhaps he might even be dead, killed by some ferocioustiger.
And so it was, that with him, all the joy and gladness had departedfrom the beautiful forest, which his presence no longer sanctified.