Far to Seek | Page 5

of grown-ups, that
was so patent and so irritating and made them look so silly. The smile
in her eyes as she listened had sent a warm tingly feeling all through
him, as if the spring sunshine itself ran in his veins. Naturally he could
not express it so; but he felt it so. And now, as he lay looking and
listening, he felt it still. The wonder of her face and her voice, and all
the many wonders that made her so beautiful, had hitherto been as
much a part of him as the air he breathed. But this morning, in some
dim way, things were different--and he could not tell why....
His own puzzled thoughts and her face and her voice became entangled
with the chivalrous story of Prithvi Raj holding court in his hill fortress
with Tara--fit wife for a hero, since she could ride and fling a lance and
bend a bow with the best of them. When Roy caught him up, he was in
the midst of a great battle with his uncle, who had broken out in
rebellion against the old Rana of Chitor.
"All day long they were fighting, and all night long they were lying
awake beside great watch-fires, waiting till there came dawn to fight

again...."
His mother was telling, not reading now. He knew it at once from the
change in her tone.
"And when evening came, what did Prithvi Raj? He was carelessly
strolling over to the enemy's camp, carelessly walking into his Uncle's
tent to ask if he is well, in spite of many wounds. And his uncle, full of
surprise, made answer: 'Quite well, my child, since I have the pleasure
to see you.' And when he heard that Prithvi had come even before
eating any dinner, he gave orders for food: and they two, who were all
day seeking each other's life, sat there together eating from one plate.
"'In the morning we will end our battle, Uncle,' said Prithvi Raj, when
time came to go.
"'Very well, child, come early,' said Surájmul.
"So Prithvi Raj came early and put his Uncle's whole army to flight.
But that was not enough. He must be driven from the kingdom. So
when Prithvi heard that broken army was hiding in the depths of a
mighty forest, there he went with his bravest horsemen, and suddenly,
on a dark night, sprang into their midst. Then there was great shouting
and fighting; and soon they came together, uncle and nephew, striking
at each other, yet never hating, though they must make battle because
of Chitor and the Kingdom of Mewar.
"To none would Suráj yield, but only to Prithvi, bravest of the brave.
So suddenly in a loud voice he cried--'Stay the fight, nephew. If I am
killed, no great matter. But if you are killed, what will become of
Chitor? I would bear shame for ever.'
"By those generous words he made submission greater than victory.
Uncle and nephew embraced, heart to heart, and all those who had been
fighting each other sat down together in peace, because Surájmul, true
Rajput, could not bring harm, even in anger, upon the sacred city of
Chitor."

She paused--her eyes on Roy, who had lost his own puzzling sensations
in the clash of the fight and its chivalrous climax.
"Oh, I love it," he said. "Is that all?"
"No, there is more."
"Is it sad?"
She shook her head at him--smiling.
"Yes, Roy. It is sad."
He wrinkled his forehead.
"Oh dear! I like it to end the nice way."
"But I am not making tales, Sonling. I am telling history."
Tara's head nudged her shoulder. "Go on--please," she murmured,
resenting interruptions.
So Lilámani--still looking at Roy--told how Prithvi Raj went on his last
quest to Mount Abu, to punish the chief, who had married his sister and
was ill-treating her.
"In answer to her cry he went; and climbing her palace walls in the
night, he gave sharp punishment to that undeserving prince. But when
penance was over, his noble nature was ready, like before, to embrace
and be friends. Only that mean one, not able to kill him in battle, put
poison in the sweets he gave at parting and Prithvi ate them, thinking
no harm. So when he came on the hill near his palace the evil work was
done. Helpless he, the all-conqueror, sent word to Tara that he might
see her before death. But even that could not be. And she, loyal wife,
had only one thought in her heart. 'Can the blossom live when the tree
is cut down?' Calm, without tears, she bade his weeping warriors build
up the funeral pyre, putting the torch with her own hand. Then, before
them all, she climbed on that couch