Vikram and the Vampire

‘Be not so hasty and desperate, my prince,’ said the pradhan’s son, seeing his wild grief; ‘you have not understood her meaning. Later in life you will be aware of the fact that, in nine cases out of ten, a woman’s “no” is a distinct “yes.” This morning’s work has been good; the maiden asked where you learned the humanities, which being interpreted signifies “Who are you?”’

On the next day the prince disclosed his rank to old Lakshmi, who naturally declared that she had always known it. The trust they reposed in her made her ready to address Padmavati once more on the forbidden subject. So she again went to the palace, and having lovingly greeted her nursling, said to her, ‘The Raja’s son, whose heart thou didst fascinate on the brim of the tank, on the fifth day of the moon, in the light half of the month Yeth, has come to my house, and sends this message to thee: “Perform what you promised; we have now come;” and I also tell thee that this prince is worthy of thee: just as thou art beautiful, so is he endowed with all good qualities of mind and body.’

When Padmavati heard this speech she showed great anger, and, rubbing sandal on her beautiful hands, she slapped the old woman’s cheeks, and cried, ‘Wretch, Daina (witch)! get out of my house; did I not forbid thee to talk such folly in my presence?’

The lover and the nurse were equally distressed at having taken the advice of the young minister, till he explained what the crafty damsel meant. ‘When she smeared the sandal on her ten fingers,’ he explained, ‘and struck the old woman on the face, she signified that when the remaining ten moonlight nights shall have passed away she will meet you in the dark.’ At the same time he warned his master that to all appearances the lady Padmavati was far too clever to make a comfortable wife. The minister’s son especially hated talented, intellectual, and strong-minded women: he had been heard to describe the torments of Naglok[60 - Snake-land; the infernal region.] as the compulsory companionship of a polemical divine and a learned authoress, well stricken in years and of forbidding aspect, as such persons mostly are. Amongst womankind he admired – theoretically, as became a philosopher – the small, plump, laughing, chattering, unintellectual, and material-minded. And therefore – excuse the digression, Raja Vikram – he married an old maid, tall, thin, yellow, strictly proper, cold-mannered, a conversationist, and who prided herself upon spirituality. But more wonderful still, after he did marry her, he actually loved her – what an incomprehensible being is man in these matters!

To return, however. The pradhan’s son, who detected certain symptoms of strong-mindedness in the Princess Padmavati, advised his lord to be wise whilst wisdom availed him. This sage counsel was, as might be guessed, most ungraciously rejected by him for whose benefit it was intended. Then the sensible young statesman rated himself soundly for having broken his father’s rule touching advice, and atoned for it by blindly forwarding the views of his master.

After the ten nights of moonlight had passed, the old nurse was again sent to the palace with the usual message. This time Padmavati put saffron on three of her fingers, and again left their marks on the nurse’s cheek. The minister’s son explained that this was to crave delay for three days, and that on the fourth the lover would have access to her.

When the time had passed the old woman again went and inquired after her health and well-being. The princess was as usual very wroth, and having personally taken her nurse to the western gate, she called her ‘Mother of the elephant’s trunk,’[61 - A form of abuse given to Durga, who was the mother of Ganesha (Janus); the latter had an elephant’s head.] and drove her out with threats of the bastinado if she ever came back. This was reported to the young statesman, who, after a few minutes’ consideration, said, ‘The explanation of this matter is, that she has invited you to-morrow, at night-time, to meet her at this very gate.’

When brown shadows fell upon the face of earth, and here and there a star spangled the pale heavens, the minister’s son called Vajramukut, who had been engaged in adorning himself at least half that day. He had carefully shaved his cheeks and chin; his mustachio was trimmed and curled; he had arched his eyebrows by plucking out with tweezers the fine hairs around them; he had trained his curly musk-coloured love-locks to hang gracefully down his face; he had drawn broad lines of antimony along his eyelids, a most brilliant sectarian mark was affixed to his forehead, the colour of his lips had been heightened by chewing betel-nut —

‘One would imagine that you are talking of a silly girl, not of a prince, fiend!’ interrupted Vikram, who did not wish his son to hear what he called these fopperies and frivolities.

– and whitened his neck by having it shaved (continued the Baital, speaking quickly, as if determined not to be interrupted), and reddened the tips of his ears by squeezing them, and made his teeth shine by rubbing copper powder into the roots, and set off the delicacy of his fingers by staining the tips with henna. He had not been less careful of his dress: he wore a well-arranged turban, which had taken him at least two hours to bind, and a rich suit of brown stuff chosen for the adventure he was about to attempt, and he hung about his person a number of various weapons, so as to appear a hero – which young damsels admire.

Vajramukut asked his friend how he looked, and smiled happily when the other replied ‘Admirable!’ His happiness was so great that he feared it might not last, and he asked the minister’s son how best to conduct himself?

‘As a conqueror, my prince!’ answered that astute young man, ‘if it so be that you would be one. When you wish to win a woman, always impose upon her. Tell her that you are her master, and she will forthwith believe herself to be your servant. Inform her that she loves you, and forthwith she will adore you. Show her that you care nothing for her, and she will think of nothing but you. Prove to her by your demeanour that you consider her a slave, and she will become your pariah. But above all things – excuse me if I repeat myself too often – beware of the fatal virtue which men call modesty and women sheepishness. Recollect the trouble it has given us, and the danger which we have incurred; all this might have been managed at a tank within fifteen miles of your royal father’s palace. And allow me to say that you may still thank your stars; in love a lost opportunity is seldom if ever recovered. The time to woo a woman is the moment you meet her, before she has had time to think; allow her the use of reflection and she may escape the net. And after avoiding the rock of Modesty, fall not, I conjure you, into the gulf of Security. I fear the lady Padmavati, she is too clever and too prudent. When damsels of her age draw the sword of Love, they throw away the scabbard of Precaution. But you yawn – I weary you – it is time for us to move.’

Two watches of the night had passed, and there was profound stillness on earth. The young men then walked quietly through the shadows, till they reached the western gate of the palace, and found the wicket ajar. The minister’s son peeped in and saw the porter dozing, stately as a Brahman deep in the Vedas, and behind him stood a veiled woman seemingly waiting for somebody. He then returned on tiptoe to the place where he had left his master, and with a parting caution against modesty and security, bade him fearlessly glide through the wicket. Then having stayed a short time at the gate listening with anxious ear, he went back to the old woman’s house.

Vajramukut penetrating to the staircase, felt his hand grasped by the veiled figure, who motioning him to tread lightly, led him quickly forwards. They passed under several arches, through dim passages and dark doorways, till at last running up a flight of stone steps they reached the apartments of the princess.

Vajramukut was nearly fainting as the flood of splendour broke upon him. Recovering himself he gazed around the rooms, and presently a tumult of delight invaded his soul, and his body bristled with joy.[62 - Unexpected pleasure, according to the Hindus, gives a bristly elevation to the down of the body.] The scene was that of fairyland. Golden censers exhaled the most costly perfumes, and gemmed vases bore the most beautiful flowers; silver lamps containing fragrant oil illuminated doors whose panels were wonderfully decorated, and walls adorned with pictures in which such figures were formed that on seeing them the beholder was enchanted. On one side of the room stood a bed of flowers and a couch covered with brocade of gold, and strewed with freshly-culled jasmine flowers. On the other side, arranged in proper order, were attar-holders, betel-boxes, rose-water bottles, trays, and silver cases with four partitions for essences compounded of rose-leaves, sugar, and spices, prepared sandal wood, saffron, and pods of musk. Scattered about a stuccoed floor white as crystal, were coloured caddies of exquisite confections, and in others sweetmeats of various kinds.[63 - The Hindus banish ‘flasks,’ et hoc genus omne, from these scenes, and perhaps they are right.] Female attendants clothed in dresses of various colours were standing each according to her rank, with hands respectfully joined. Some were reading plays and beautiful poems, others danced and others performed with glittering fingers and flashing arms on various instruments – the ivory lute, the ebony pipe, and the silver kettledrum. In short, all the means and appliances of pleasure and enjoyment were there; and any description of the appearance of the apartments, which were the wonder of the age, is impossible.

Then another veiled figure, the beautiful Princess Padmavati, came up and disclosed herself, and dazzled the eyes of her delighted Vajramukut. She led him into an alcove, made him sit down, rubbed sandal powder upon his body, hung a garland of jasmine flowers round his neck, sprinkled rose-water over his dress, and began to wave over his head a fan of peacock feathers with a golden handle.

Said the prince, who despite all efforts could not entirely shake off his unhappy habit of being modest, ‘Those very delicate hands of yours are not fit to ply the pankha.[64 - The Pankha, or large common fan, is a leaf of the Corypha umbraculifera, with the petiole cut to the length of about five feet, pared round the edges and painted to look pretty. It is waved by the servant standing behind a chair.] Why do you take so much trouble? I am cool and refreshed by the sight of you. Do give the fan to me and sit down.’

‘Nay, great king!’ replied Padmavati, with the most fascinating of smiles, ‘you have taken so much trouble for my sake in coming here, it is right that I perform service for you.’

Upon which her favourite slave, taking the pankha from the hand of the princess, exclaimed, ‘This is my duty. I will perform the service; do you two enjoy yourselves!’

The lovers then began to chew betel, which, by the bye, they disposed of in little agate boxes which they drew from their pockets, and they were soon engaged in the tenderest conversation.

Here the Baital paused for a while, probably to take breath. Then he resumed his tale as follows:

In the meantime, it became dawn; the princess concealed him; and when night returned they again engaged in the same innocent pleasures. Thus day after day sped rapidly by. Imagine, if you can, the youth’s felicity; he was of an ardent temperament, deeply enamoured, barely a score of years old, and he had been strictly brought up by serious parents. He therefore resigned himself entirely to the siren for whom he willingly forgot the world, and he wondered at his good fortune, which had thrown in his way a conquest richer than all the mines of Meru.[65 - The fabulous mass of precious stones forming the sacred mountain of Hindu mythology.] He could not sufficiently admire his Padmavati’s grace, beauty, bright wit, and numberless accomplishments. Every morning, for vanity’s sake, he learned from her a little useless knowledge in verse as well as prose, for instance, the saying of the poet —

Enjoy the present hour, ‘tis thine; be this, O man, thy law;
Who e’er resaw the yester? Who the morrow e’er foresaw?

And this highly philosophical axiom —

Eat, drink, and love – the rest’s not worth a fillip.

‘By means of which he hoped, Raja Vikram!’ said the demon, not heeding his royal carrier’s ‘ughs’ and ‘poohs,’ ‘to become in course of time almost as clever as his mistress.’

Padmavati, being, as you have seen, a maiden of superior mind, was naturally more smitten by her lover’s dulness than by any other of his qualities; she adored it, it was such a contrast to herself.[66 - ‘I love my love with an “S,” because he is stupid and not psychological.’] At first she did what many clever women do – she invested him with the brightness of her own imagination. Still water, she pondered, runs deep; certainly under this disguise must lurk a brilliant fancy, a penetrating but a mature and ready judgment – are they not written by nature’s hand on that broad high brow? With such lovely mustachios can he be aught but generous, noble-minded, magnanimous? Can such eyes belong to any but a hero? And she fed the delusion. She would smile upon him with intense fondness, when, after wasting hours over a few lines of poetry, he would misplace all the adjectives and barbarously entreat the metre. She laughed with gratification, when, excited by the bright sayings that fell from her lips, the youth put forth some platitude, dim as the lamp in the expiring fire-fly. When he slipped in grammar she saw malice under it, when he retailed a borrowed jest she called it a good one, and when he used – as princes sometimes will – bad language, she discovered in it a charming simplicity.

At first she suspected that the stratagems which had won her heart were the results of a deep-laid plot proceeding from her lover. But clever women are apt to be rarely sharp-sighted in every matter which concerns themselves. She frequently determined that a third was in the secret. She therefore made no allusion to it. Before long the enamoured Vajramukut had told her everything, beginning with the diatribe against love pronounced by the minister’s son, and ending with the solemn warning that she, the pretty princess, would some day or other play her husband a foul trick.

‘If I do not revenge myself upon him,’ thought the beautiful Padmavati, smiling like an angel as she listened to the youth’s confidence, ‘may I become a gardener’s ass in the next birth!’

Having thus registered a vow, she broke silence, and praised to the skies the young pradhan’s wisdom and sagacity; professed herself ready from gratitude to become his slave, and only hoped that one day or other she might meet that true friend by whose skill her soul had been gratified in its dearest desire. ‘Only,’ she concluded, ‘I am convinced that now my Vajramukut knows every corner of his little Padmavati’s heart, he will never expect her to do anything but love, admire, adore and kiss him!’ Then suiting the action to the word, she convinced him that the young minister had for once been too crabbed and cynic in his philosophy.

But after the lapse of a month Vajramukut, who had eaten and drunk and slept a great deal too much, and who had not once hunted, became bilious in body and in mind melancholic. His face turned yellow, and so did the whites of his eyes; he yawned, as liver patients generally do, complained occasionally of sick headaches, and lost his appetite; he became restless and anxious, and once when alone at night he thus thought aloud: ‘I have given up country, throne, home, and everything else, but the friend by means of whom this happiness was obtained I have not seen for the long length of thirty days. What will he say to himself, and how can I know what has happened to him?’

In this state of things he was sitting, and in the meantime the beautiful princess arrived. She saw through the matter, and lost not a moment in entering upon it. She began by expressing her astonishment at her lover’s fickleness and fondness for change, and when he was ready to wax wroth, and quoted the words of the sage, ‘A barren wife may be superseded by another in the eighth year; she whose children all die, in the tenth; she who brings forth only daughters, in the eleventh; she who scolds, without delay,’ thinking that she alluded to his love, she smoothed his temper by explaining that she referred to his forgetting his friend. ‘How is it possible, O my soul,’ she asked with the softest of voices, ‘that thou canst enjoy happiness here whilst thy heart is wandering there? Why didst thou conceal this from me, O astute one? Was it for fear of distressing me? Think better of thy wife than to suppose that she would ever separate thee from one to whom we both owe so much!’

After this Padmavati advised, nay ordered, her lover to go forth that night, and not to return till his mind was quite at ease, and she begged him to take a few sweetmeats and other trifles as a little token of her admiration and regard for the clever young man of whom she had heard so much.

Vajramukut embraced her with a transport of gratitude, which so inflamed her anger that, fearing lest the cloak of concealment might fall from her countenance, she went away hurriedly to find the greatest delicacies which her comfit boxes contained. Presently she returned, carrying a bag of sweetmeats of every kind for her lover, and as he rose up to depart, she put into his hand a little parcel of sugar-plums especially intended for the friend; they were made up with her own delicate fingers, and they would please, she flattered herself, even his discriminating palate.

The young prince, after enduring a number of farewell embraces and hopings for a speedy return, and last words ever beginning again, passed safely through the palace gate, and with a relieved aspect walked briskly to the house of the old nurse. Although it was midnight his friend was still sitting on his mat.

The two young men fell upon one another’s bosoms and embraced affectionately. Then they began to talk of matters nearest their hearts. The Raja’s son wondered at seeing the jaded and haggard looks of his companion, who did not disguise that they were caused by his anxiety as to what might have happened to his friend at the hand of so talented and so superior a princess. Upon which Vajramukut, who now thought Padmavati an angel, and his late abode a heaven, remarked with formality – and two blunders to one quotation – that abilities properly directed win for a man the happiness of both worlds.

The pradhan’s son rolled his head.

‘Again on your hobby-horse, nagging at talent whenever you find it in others!’ cried the young prince with a pun, which would have delighted Padmavati. ‘Surely you are jealous of her!’ he resumed, anything but pleased with the dead silence that had received his joke; ‘jealous of her cleverness, and of her love for me. She is the very best creature in the world. Even you, woman-hater as you are, would own it if you only knew all the kind messages she sent, and the little pleasant surprise she has prepared for you. There! take and eat; they are made by her own dear hands!’ cried the young Raja, producing the sweetmeats. ‘As she herself taught me to say —

Thank God I am a man,
Not a philosopher!’

‘The kind messages she sent me! The pleasant surprise she has prepared for me!’ repeated the minister’s son in a hard, dry tone. ‘My lord will be pleased to tell me how she heard of my name?’

‘I was sitting one night,’ replied the prince, ‘in anxious thought about you, when at that moment the princess coming in and seeing my condition, asked, “Why are you thus sad? Explain the cause to me.” I then gave her an account of your cleverness, and when she had heard it she gave me permission to go and see you, and sent these sweetmeats for you: eat them and I shall be pleased.’

‘Great king!’ rejoined the young statesman, ‘one, thing vouchsafe to hear from me. You have not done well in that you have told my name. You should never let a woman think that your left hand knows the secret which she confided to your right, much less that you have shared it to a third person. Secondly, you did evil in allowing her to see the affection with which you honour your unworthy servant – a woman ever hates her lover’s or husband’s friend.’

‘What could I do?’ rejoined the young Raja, in a querulous tone of voice. ‘When I love a woman I like to tell her everything – to have no secrets from her – to consider her another self – ’

‘Which habit,’ interrupted the pradhan’s son, ‘you will lose when you are a little older, when you recognise the fact that love is nothing but a bout, a game of skill between two individuals of opposite sexes: the one seeking to gain as much, and the other striving to lose as little, as possible; and that the sharper of the twain thus met on the chess-board must, in the long run, win. And reticence is but a habit. Practise it for a year, and you will find it harder to betray than to conceal your thoughts. It hath its joys also. Is there no pleasure, think you, when suppressing an outbreak of tender but fatal confidence, in saying to yourself, “O, if she only knew this?” “O, if she did but suspect that?” Returning, however, to the sugar-plums, my life to a pariah’s that they are poisoned!’

‘Impossible!’ exclaimed the prince, horror-struck at the thought; ‘what you say, surely no one ever could do. If a mortal fears not his fellow-mortal, at least he dreads the Deity.’

‘I never yet knew,’ rejoined the other, ‘what a woman in love does fear. However, prince, the trial is easy. Come here, Muti!’ cried he to the old woman’s dog, ‘and off with thee to that three-headed kinsman of thine, that attends upon his amiable-looking master.’[67 - Hindu mythology has also its Cerberus, Trisisa, the ‘three-headed’ hound that attends dreadful Yama (Pluto).]

Having said this, he threw one of the sweetmeats to the dog; the animal ate it, and presently writhing and falling down, died.

‘The wretch! O the wretch!’ cried Vajramukut, transported with wonder and anger. ‘And I loved her! But now it is all over, I dare not associate with such a calamity!’

‘What has happened, my lord, has happened!’ quoth the minister’s son calmly. ‘I was prepared for something of this kind from so talented a princess. None commit such mistakes, such blunders, such follies as your clever women; they cannot even turn out a crime decently executed. O give me dulness with one idea, one aim, one desire. O thrice blest dulness that combines with happiness, power.’