The Remainder Of The Party Had Grown
Very Quiet And Silent.
Miss X - - dozed peacefully in the carriage,
forgetting her recent fright.
The colonel, stretched on the sand,
amused himself by throwing stones into the water. Narayan sat
motionless, with his hands round his knees, plunged as usual in
the mute contemplation of Gulab Lal-Sing. Mr. Y - - sketched
hurriedly and diligently, only raising his head from time to time
to glance at the opposite shore, and knitting his brow in a
preoccupied way. The Takur went on smoking, and as for me, I sat
on my folding chair, looking lazily at everything round me, till
my eyes rested on Gulab-Sing, and were fixed, as if by a spell.
"Who and what is this mysterious Hindu?" I wondered in my uncertain
thoughts. "Who is this man, who unites in himself two such distinct
personalities: the one exterior, kept up for strangers, for the
orld in general, the other interior, moral and spiritual, shown
only to a few intimate friends? But even these intimate friends
do they know much beyond what is generally known? And what do
they know? They see in him a Hindu who differs very little from
the rest of educated natives, perhaps only in his perfect contempt
for the social conventions of India and the demands of Western
civilization.... And that is all - unless I add that he is known
in Central India as a sufficiently wealthy man, and a Takur, a
feudal chieftain of a Raj, one of the hundreds of similar Rajes.
Besides, he is a true friend of ours, who offered us his protection
in our travels and volunteered to play the mediator between us
and the suspicious, uncommunicative Hindus. Beyond all this, we
know absolutely nothing about him. It is true, though, that I
know a little more than the others; but I have promised silence,
and silent I shall be. But the little I know is so strange, so
unusual, that it is more like a dream than a reality."
A good while ago, more than twenty-seven years, I met him in the
house of a stranger in England, whither he came in the company of
a certain dethroned Indian prince. Then our acquaintance was
limited to two conversations; their unexpectedness, their gravity,
and even severity, produced a strong impression on me then; but,
in the course of time, like many other things, they sank into
oblivion and Lethe. About seven years ago he wrote to me to
America, reminding me of our conversation and of a certain promise
I had made. Now we saw each other once more in India, his own
country, and I failed to see any change wrought in his appearance
by all these long years. I was, and looked, quite young, when I
first saw him; but the passage of years had not failed to change
me into an old woman. As to him, he appeared to me twenty-seven
years ago a man of about thirty, and still looked no older, as if
time were powerless against him. In England, his striking beauty,
especially his extraordinary height and stature, together with his
eccentric refusal to be presented to the Queen - an honour many a
high-born Hindu has sought, coming over on purpose - excited the
public notice and the attention of the newspapers. The newspapermen
of those days, when the influence of Byron was still great, discussed
the "wild Rajput" with untiring pens, calling him "Raja-Misanthrope"
and " Prince Jalma-Samson," and in-venting fables about him all the
time he stayed in England.
All this taken together was well calculated to fill me with consuming
curiosity, and to absorb my thoughts till I forgot every exterior
circumstance, sitting and staring at him in no wise less intensely
than Narayan.
I gazed at the remarkable face of Gulab-Lal-Sing with a mixed feeling
of indescribable fear and enthusiastic admiration; recalling the
mysterious death of the Karli tiger, my own miraculous escape a
few hours ago in Bagh, and many other incidents too many to relate.
It was only a few hours since he appeared to us in the morning,
and yet what a number of strange ideas, of puzzling occurrences,
how many enigmas his presence stirred in our minds! The magic
circle of my revolving thought grew too much for me. "What does
all this mean!" I exclaimed to myself, trying to shake off my torpor,
and struggling to find words for my meditation. "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.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 79 of 95
Words from 79225 to 80258
of 96531
