You have no business waking in the night; go to sleep. Kunda Nandini is dying; let her die!--she would gladly do so to save you a headache. Now the lightened window has become dark. Looking--looking--wiping her eyes, Kunda Nandini arose and took the path before her. The ghost-like shrubs, murmuring, asked, "Whither goest thou?" the fan palms rustled, "Whither dost thou go?" the owl"s deep voice asked the same question. The window said, "Let her go--no more will I show to her _Nagendra_." Then foolish Kunda Nandini gazed once more in that direction.
Oh, iron-hearted Surja Mukhi, arise! think what you have done. Make the forlorn one return.
Kunda went on, on, on; again the clouds clashed, the sky became as night, the lightning flashed, the wind moaned, the clouds thundered.
Kunda! Kunda! whither goest thou? The storm came--first the sound, then clouds of dust, then leaves torn from the trees borne by the wind; at last, plash, plash, the rain. Kunda, with thy one garment, whither goest thou?
By the flashes of lightning Kunda saw a hut: its walls were of mud, supporting a low roof. She sat down within the doorway, resting against the door. In doing this she made some noise. The house owner being awake heard the noise, but thought it was made by the storm; but a dog, who slept within near the door, barking loudly, alarmed the householder, who timidly opened the door, and seeing only a desolate woman, asked, "Who is there?" No reply. "Who are you, woman?"
Kunda said, "I am standing here because of the storm."
"What? What? Speak again."
Kunda repeated her words.
The householder recognizing the voice, drew Kunda indoors, and, making a fire, discovered herself to be Hira. She comforted Kunda, saying, "I understand--you have run away from the scolding; have no fear, I will tell no one. You shall stay with me for a couple of days."
Hira"s dwelling was surrounded by a wall. Inside were a couple of clean mud-built huts. The walls of the rooms were decorated with figures of flowers, birds, and G.o.ds. In the court-yard grew red-leaved vegetables, and near them jasmine and roses. The gardener from the Babu"s house had planted them. If Hira had wished, he would have given her anything from the Babu"s garden. His profit in this was that Hira with her own hand prepared his huka and handed it to him.
In one of the huts Hira slept; in the other her grandmother. Hira made up a bed for Kunda beside her own. Kunda lay there, but did not sleep.
Kunda desired to remain hidden, and therefore consented to be locked in the room on the following day when Hira went to her work, so that she should not be seen by the grandmother. At noon, when the grandmother went to bathe, Hira, coming home, permitted Kunda to bathe and eat. After this meal Kunda was again locked in, and Hira returned to her work till night, when she again made up the beds as before.
Creak, creak, creak--the sound of the chain of the outer door gently shaken. Hira was astonished. One person only, the gatekeeper, sometimes shook the chain to give warning at night. But in his hand the chain did not speak so sweetly; it spoke threateningly, as though to say, "If you do not open, I will break the door." Now it seemed to say, "How are you, my Hira? Arise, my jewel of a Hira!" Hira arose, and opening the outer door saw a woman. At first she was puzzled, but in a moment, recognizing the visitor, she exclaimed, "Oh, _Ganga jal_![11] how fortunate I am!"
[Footnote 11: _Ganga jal_--Ganges water; a pet name given by Hira to Malati. To receive this at the moment of death it essential to salvation; therefore Hira expresses the hope to meet Malati in the hour of death.]
Hira"s _Ganga jal_ was Malati the milk-woman, whose home was at Debipur, near Debendra Babu"s house. She was a merry woman, from thirty to thirty-two years of age, dressed in a _sari_ and wearing sh.e.l.l bracelets, her lips red from the spices she ate; her complexion was almost fair, with red spots on her cheeks; her nose flat, her temples tattooed, a quid of tobacco in her cheek. Malati was not a servant of Debendra"s, not even a dependent, but yet a follower; the services that others refused to perform, he obtained from her.
At sight of this woman the cunning Hira said: "Sister _Ganga jal_! may I meet you at my last moment; but why have you come now?"
Malati whispered, "Debendra Babu wants you."
Hira, with a laugh: "Are you not to get anything?"
Malati answered, "You best know what you mean. Come at once."
As Hira desired to go, she told Kunda that she was called to her master"s house, and must go to see what was wanted. Then extinguishing the light, she put on her dress and ornaments, and accompanied _Ganga jal_, the two singing as they went some love song.
Hira went alone into Debendra"s _boita khana_. He had been drinking, but not heavily; he was quite sensible. His manner to Hira was altogether changed; he paid her no compliments, but said: "I had taken so much that evening that I did not understand what you said. Why did you come that night? it is to know this that I have sent for you. You told me Kunda Nandini sent you, but you did not give her message. I suppose that was because you found me so much overcome; but you can tell me now."
"Kunda Nandini did not send me to say anything."
"Then why did you come?" replied Debendra.
"I only came to see you."
Debendra laughed. "You are very intelligent. Nagendra Babu is fortunate in possessing such a servant. I thought the talk about Kunda Nandini was a mere pretence. You came to inquire after Haridasi _Boisnavi_. You came to know my design in wearing the _Boisnavi_ garb; why I went to the Datta house: this you came to learn, and in part you accomplished your purpose. I do not seek to hide the matter. You did your master"s work, and have received your reward from him, no doubt.
I have a commission for you; do it, and I also will reward you."
It would be an unpleasant task to relate in detail the speech of a man so deeply sunk in vice. Debendra, promising Hira an abundant reward, proposed to buy Kunda Nandini.
At his words Hira"s eyes reddened, her ears became like fire. When he had finished she rose and said--
"Sir, addressing me as a servant, you have said this to me. It is not for me to reply. I will tell my master, and he will give you a suitable answer." Then she went quickly out.
For some moments Debendra sat puzzled and cowed. Then to revive himself he returned to the brandy, and the songs in which he usually indulged.
CHAPTER XVI.
HIRA"S ENVY
Rising in the morning, Hira went to her work. For the past two days there had been a great tumult in the Datta house, because Kunda Nandini was not to be found. It was known to all the household that she had gone away in anger. It was also known to some of the neighbours. Nagendra heard that Kunda had gone, but no one told him the reason. He thought to himself, "Kunda has left because she does not think it right to remain in the house after what I said to her. If so, why does she not go with Kamal?" Nagendra"s brow was clouded. No one ventured to come near him. He knew not what fault Surja Mukhi had committed, yet he held no intercourse with her, but sent a female spy into the neighbourhood to make search for Kunda Nandini.
Surja Mukhi was much distressed on hearing of Kunda"s flight, especially as Kamal Mani had a.s.sured her that what Debendra had said was not worthy of credit: for if she had had any bond with Debendra during three years, it could not have remained unknown; and Kunda"s disposition gave no reason for suspicion of such a thing. Debendra was a drunkard, and in his cups he spoke falsely. Thinking over this, Surja Mukhi"s distress increased. In addition to that, her husband"s displeasure hurt her severely. A hundred times she abused Kunda--a thousand times she blamed herself. She also sent people in search of Kunda.
Kamal"s postponed her departure for Calcutta. She abused no one. She did not use a word of scolding to Surja Mukhi. Loosening her necklace from her throat, she showed it to all the household, saying, "I will give this to whomsoever will bring Kunda back."
The guilty Hira heard and saw all this, but said nothing. Seeing the necklace she coveted it, but repressed her desire. On the second day, arranging her work, she went at noon, at which hour her grandmother would be bathing, to give Kunda her meal. At night the two made their bed, and laid down together. Neither Hira nor Kunda slept: Kunda was kept awake by her sorrow; Hira by the mingled happiness and trouble of her thoughts. But whatever her thoughts were she did not give them words--they remained hidden.
Oh, Hira! Hira! you have not an evil countenance, you too are young; why this vice in your heart? Why did the Creator betray her? Because the Creator betrayed her, does she therefore wish to betray others? If Hira were in Surja Mukhi"s place, would she be so deceitful? Hira says "No!" But sitting in Hira"s place she speaks as Hira. People say all evil that occurs is brought about by the wicked. Wicked people say, "I should have been virtuous, but through the faults of others have become evil." Some say, "Why has not five become seven?" Five says, "I would have been seven, but two and five make seven. If the Creator or the Creator"s creatures had given me two more, I should have been seven." So thought Hira.
Hira said to herself: "Now what shall I do? Since the Creator has given me the opportunity, why should I lose it through my own fault?
On the one side, if I take Kunda home to the Dattas, Kamal will give me the necklace, and the _Grihini_ also will give me something. Shall I spare the Babu? On the other hand, if I give Kunda to Debendra Babu, I shall get a large sum of money at once. But I can"t do that. Why does Debendra think Kunda so beautiful? If I had good food, dressed well, took my ease like a fine lady in a picture, I could be the same.
So simple a creature as Kunda can never understand the merits of Debendra Babu. If there were no mud there would be no lotus, and Kunda is the only woman who can excite love in Debendra Babu. Every one to their destiny! But why am I angry? Why should I trouble myself? I used to jest at love--I used to say it is mere talk, a mere story. Now I laugh no longer. I used to say, "If anyone loves let him love; I shall never love any one." Fate said, "Wait, you will see by and by."
In trying to seize the robber of other"s wealth, I have lost my own heart. What a face! what a neck! what a figure! is there another man like him? That the fellow should tell _me_ to bring Kunda to him!
Could he set no one else this task? I could have struck him in the face! I have come to love him so dearly, I could even find pleasure in striking him. But let that pa.s.s. In that path there is danger; I must not think of it. I have long ceased to look for joy or sorrow in this life. Nevertheless, I cannot give Kunda into Debendra"s hand; the thought of it torments me. Rather I will so manage that she shall not fall in his way. How shall I effect that? I will place Kunda where she was before, thus she will escape him. Whether he dress as _Boisnavi_ or _Vasudeva_,[12] he will not obtain admission into that house; therefore it will be well to take Kunda back there. But she will not go! Her face is set against the house. But if all coax her she must go. Another design I have in my mind; will G.o.d permit me to carry it out? Why am I so angry with Surja Mukhi? She never did me any harm; on the contrary, she loves me and is kind to me. Why, then, am I angry?
Because Surja Mukhi is happy, and I am miserable; she is great, I am mean; she is mistress, I am servant; therefore my anger against her is strong. If, you say, G.o.d made her great, how is that her fault? Why should I hurt her? I reply, G.o.d has done me harm. Is that my fault? I do not wish to hurt her, but if hurting her benefits me, why should I not do it? Who does not seek his own advantage? Now I want money; I can"t endure servitude any longer. Where will money come from? From the Datta house--where else? To get the Datta money, then, must be my object. Every one knows that Nagendra Babu"s eyes have fallen on Kunda; the Babu worships her. What great people wish, they can accomplish. The only obstacle is Surja Mukhi. If the two should quarrel, then the great Surja Mukhi"s wish will no longer be regarded.
Now, let me see if I cannot bring about a quarrel. If that is done, the Babu will be free to worship Kunda. At present Kunda is but an innocent, but I will make her wise; I will soon bring her into subjection. She can be of much a.s.sistance to me. If I give my mind to it, I can make her do what I will. If the Babu devotes himself to Kunda, he will do what she bids him; and she shall do what I bid her.
So shall I receive the fruits of his devotion. If I am not to serve longer, this is the way it must be brought about. I will give Kunda Nandini to Nagendra, but not suddenly. I will hide her for a few days and see what happens. Love is deepened by separation. If I keep them apart the Babu"s love will ripen. Then I will bring out Kunda and give her to him. Then if Surja Mukhi"s fate is not broken, it must be a very strong fate. In the meantime I will mould Kunda to my will. But, first, I must send my grandmother to Kamarghat, else I cannot keep Kunda hidden."
[Footnote 12: _Vasudeva_--the father of Krishna.]
With this design, Hira set about her arrangements. On some pretext she induced her grandmother to go to the house of a relative in the village of Kamarghat, and kept Kunda closely concealed in her own house. Kunda, seeing all her zeal and care, thought to herself, "There is no one living so good as Hira. Even Kamal does not love me so much."
CHAPTER XVII.
HIRA"S QUARREL. THE BUD OF THE POISON TREE.
"Yes, that will do. Kunda shall submit. But if we do not make Surja Mukhi appear as poison in the eyes of Nagendra, nothing can be accomplished."
So Hira set herself to divide the hearts. .h.i.therto undivided.