of Rati, preparing with timidity to cast herself at the feet of the
three-eyed God, to beg back the body of her burned-up husband in a
passion of love-lorn tears.

[9] April.

And Aja stood before her, like the sea when the digit of the moon rises
suddenly over its waves, stirred with a tumult of strange emotions, and
yet lit by a heavenly ray, a mass of agitated darkness mixed with
dancing, trembling light; all unaware that he was himself to the King's
daughter exactly what she was to him, a weapon of bewilderment in the
hands of the cunning god of the flowery bow, who shot him suddenly at
her, like an arrow of intoxication, and pierced her through the very
middle of the soft lotus of her heart.

So they two stood awhile in silence. And all at once, Aja spoke, not
knowing that he spoke aloud. And he said, very slowly: How many
husbands, then, have already had this lustrous beauty, who looks for all
as pure and pale and undefiled as a new young delicate jasmine bud? And
instantly, as if roused from sleep by his reproach, he saw the colour
leap up into her cheek, and spread like dawn flushing over her burning
throat and brow. And she drew a sudden breath, and her bosom heaved
abruptly as if with a sob of shame. And at that moment, the voice of the
King her father broke harshly into Aja's dream, saying: Alas! alas!
Never a husband has had her yet, though she is now long past sixteen,
and could even teach Tumburu dancing.

And then, as if the King's words had suddenly lifted a weight from his
soul, Aja burst into a shout of laughter. And he tottered, as if to
fall. And he caught at the old King's arm, and gripped it so that he