Bubbles of the Foam | Page 9

sitting in his palace, with some of his
attendants round him, gazing at his own image, that was reflected in a
tiny mirror set on his finger in a ring. And he was plunged in the
contemplation of himself, shadowed by a melancholy that arose, not
from grief at the loss of his parents, but dejection caused by the gloom
of the period of mourning: and as he sat, he said within himself: I am
losing time, and growing old, and letting the opportunity slip by me
unimproved, and this bloom of mine is wasted, and, as it were, lying
idle, for want of its proper mirror, which is not this ring, but a pair of
new eyes, which would look back at my own, not as this does, vacantly
and without a soul, but lit up by the soft lustre of passion and
admiration. And all at once, he started up, and exclaimed aloud: What!
do ye all sit easily, when I am dying for lack of recreation? Know ye
not that even the jackal is in danger, when the lion is left without a prey?
Even now I am debating with myself, whether it would not be a good
thing to have one of you chosen by lot, and trampled by an elephant, to
be a lesson to the rest.
And then, as they all gazed at him with anxiety, each fearing for
himself, he looked at their confusion, as if with enjoyment, and said
again: What, with so many idle all about me, am I, forsooth, to sit
waiting, for fortune to come to me, like an abhisariká, of her own
accord? Nay, it were well enough, could I even see coming towards me
an abhisariká of any kind. But the women of this city grow, as it seems,
older and more ugly every day: for I have skimmed its cream, and now
nothing is left but curd, and dregs, and whey, and like the ocean after
its churning, all its treasures are exhausted, leaving nothing but
crocodiles and monsters, and bitterness, and brine.
So then, wishing to cajole him, one of them replied: Maháráj, were this
city as full of beauties as the very sea of gems, how could any one of
them come to thee in broad daylight? For is it not laid down in all the
Shástras, that even an abhisariká,[20] were she dying for her lover,
must notwithstanding observe times and seasons, choosing for her
expedition only proper opportunities, such as are afforded by a winter
night, or a dense fog, or the confusion caused by a whirlwind or an

earthquake or an uproar, or a revolution in the state, or an illness of the
king, or a festival, when all the citizens are drunk, or sleeping, or when
the city is on fire. But as it is, not one of these occasions is present, to
enable her to come to thee escaping observation. And a woman of good
family is very different from a dancing girl. For when she leaves her
home, on such an assignation, she wraps herself up, disguising her
identity, and creeps along timidly making herself small, wishing even
darkness darker, in addition to the screen provided by all the other
circumstances that favour her attempt.
[Footnote 20: There is a ludicrous pedantry about the elaborate
categories of Hindoo sages: they make grammatical rules even for
every department of erotics: as if it were necessary for ladies to learn
the grammar of the subject, before they could make love!]
And Atirupa said: There is no difficulty in this: for could I think that
there was even one woman in the city awaiting such an opportunity,
who was worthy of it, I would very soon oblige her, by burning the city
to the ground, reducing it to ashes for her convenience and my own.
And all at once, one answered from behind, who had entered as he
spoke, unobserved: Ha! Maháráj, then, as it seems, I am come in the
very nick of time, to save thy city from such a miserable end.
And Atirupa turned, and exclaimed joyfully: Ha! Chamu,[21] art thou
returned? I was beginning to think thee lost, like a stone dropped to the
very bottom of the sea. And Chamu said: Thou art right: for I am like
the oyster, and contain a pearl.
[Footnote 21: Pronounce Chummoo.]
And he looked at Atirupa, and laughed, rubbing his hands together,
with cunning in his eyes, that resembled those of a weasel. And he said:
Maháráj, as I entered, I heard thee wishing for Shrí[22] to visit thee in
the form of an abhisariká; and lo! here she is, in my form. And do not
despise her, on account of my deformity: for Shrí is a lady, and
capricious,