"Who is this being
whom I saw so many years ago, jubilant with manhood and life, and
now see again, as young and as full of life, only still more austere,
still more incomprehensible. After all, maybe it is his brother,
or even his son?" thought I, trying to calm myself, but with no
result. "No! there is no use doubting; it is he himself, it is
the same face, the same little scar on the left temple. But, as
a quarter of a century ago, so now: no wrinkles on those beautiful
classic features; not a white hair in this thick jet-black mane;
and, in moments of silence, the same expression of perfect rest
on that face, calm as a statue of living bronze. What a strange
expression, and what a wonderful Sphinx-like face!"
"Not a very brilliant comparison, my old friend!" suddenly spoke
the Takur, and a good-natured laughing note rung in his voice,
whilst I shuddered and grew red like a naughty schoolgirl. "This
comparison is so inaccurate that it decidedly sins against history
in two important points. Primo, the Sphinx is a lion; so am I,
as indicates the word Sing in my name; but the Sphinx is winged,
and I am not. Secondo, the Sphinx is a woman as well as a winged
lion, but the Rajput Sinhas never had anything effeminate in their
characters. Besides, the Sphinx is the daughter of Chimera, or
Echidna, who were neither beautiful nor good; and so you might
have chosen a more flattering and a less inaccurate comparison!"
I simply gasped in my utter confusion, and he gave vent to his
merriment, which by no means relieved me. "Shall I give you some
good advice?" continued Gulab-Sing, changing his tone for a more
serious one. "Don't trouble your head with such vain speculations.
The day when this riddle yields its solution, the Rajput Sphinx
will not seek destruction in the waves of the sea; but, believe me,
it won't bring any profit to the Russian Oedipus either. You
already know every detail you ever will learn. So leave the rest
to our respective fates."
And he rose because the Babu and Mulji had informed us that the
ferry boat was ready to start, and were shouting and making signs
to us to hasten.
"Just let me finish," said Mr. Y - -, "I have nearly done. Just
an additional touch or two."
"Let us see your work. Hand it round!" insisted the colonel and
Miss X - -, who had just left her haven of refuge in the carriage,
and joined us still half asleep.
Mr. Y - - hurriedly added a few more touches to his drawing and rose
to collect his brushes and pencils.
We glanced at his fresh wet picture and opened our eyes in astonishment.
There was no lake on it, no woody shores, and no velvety evening mists
that covered the distant island at this moment.
