Note 290 — KĀDAMBARĪ. (continued 2)

(426) ‘“Dismounting, he entered, and bent reverently before the goddess, and, bowing again after a sunwise turn, he wandered about, interested in the calm of the place, and beheld on one side the wrathful hermit, howling and shouting at him; and at the sight, tossed as he was by passionate longing in his absence from Kādambarī, he could not forbear smiling a moment; but he checked his soldiers, who were laughing and beginning a quarrel with the hermit; and at length, with great difficulty, he calmed him with many a soothing and courteous speech, and asked him about his birthplace, caste, knowledge, wife and children, wealth, age, and the cause of his ascetic vow. On being asked, the latter described himself, and the prince was greatly interested by him as he garrulously described his past heroism, beauty, and wealth, and thus diverted his mind in its soreness of bereavement; and, having become friendly with him, he caused betel to be offered to him. (427) When the sun set, the princes encamped under the trees that chanced290 to be near; the golden saddles of the steeds were hung on boughs; the steeds showed the exertions they had gone through, from the tossing of their manes dusty with rolling on the earth, and after they had taken some handfuls of grass and been watered, and were refreshed, they were tethered, with the spears dug into the ground before them; the soldiery, wearied291 with the day’s march, appointed a watch, and gladly went to sleep on heaps of leaves near the horses; the encampment was bright as day, for the darkness was drunk up by the light of many a bivouac fire, and Candrāpīḍa went to a couch prepared for him by his retinue, and pointed out to him by his porters, in front of the place where Indrāyudha was tethered. But the very moment he lay down restlessness seized his heart, and, overcome by pain, he dismissed the princes, and said nothing even to the special favourites who stood behind him. With closed eyes he again and again went in heart to the Kimpurusha land. With fixed thought he recalled Hemakūṭa. He thought on the spontaneous kindness of Mahāçvetā’s favours.292 He constantly longed for the sight of Kādambarī as his life’s highest fruit. He continually desired the converse of Madalekhā, so charming in its absence of pride. He wished to see Tamālikā. He looked forward to Keyūraka’s coming. He beheld in fancy the winter palace. He often sighed a long, feverish sigh. He bestowed on the Çesha necklace a kindness beyond that for his kin. (428) He thought he saw fortunate Patralekhā standing behind him. Thus he passed the night without sleep; and, rising at dawn, he fulfilled the hermit’s wish by wealth poured out at his desire, and, sojourning at pleasant spots on the way, in a few days he reached Ujjayinī. A thousand hands, like lotuses of offering to a guest raised in reverent salutation, were raised by the citizens in their confusion and joy at his sudden coming, as he then unexpectedly entered the city. The king heard from the retinue293 hastening to be first to tell him that Candrāpīḍa was at the gate, and bewildered by sudden gladness, with steps slow from the weight of joy, he went to meet his son. Like Mandara, he drew to himself as a Milky Ocean his spotless silk mantle that was slipping down; like the kalpa-tree, with its shower of choice pearls, he rained tears of gladness; he was followed by a thousand chiefs that were round him—chiefs with topknots white with age, anointed with sandal, wearing untorn294 linen robes, bracelets, turbans, crests and wreaths, bearing swords, staves, umbrellas and cowries, making the earth appear rich in Kailāsas and Milky Oceans. The prince, seeing his father from afar, dismounted, and touched the ground with a head garlanded by the rays of his crest-jewels. Then his father stretched out his arms, bidding him approach, and embraced him closely; and when he had paid his respects to all the honourable persons who were there, he was led by the king to Vilāsavatī’s palace. (429) His coming was greeted by her and her retinue, and when he had performed all the auspicious ceremonies of arrival, he stayed some time in talk about his expedition of conquest, and then went to see Çukanāsa. Having duly stayed there some time, he told him that Vaiçampāyana was at the camp and well, and saw Manoramā; and then returning, he mechanically295 performed the ceremonies of bathing, and so forth, in Vilāsavatī’s palace. On the morrow he went to his own palace, and there, with a mind tossed by anxiety, he deemed that not only himself, but his palace and the city, and, indeed, the whole world, was but a void without Kādambarī, and so, in his longing to hear news of her, he awaited the return of Patralekhā, as though it were a festival, or the winning of a boon, or the time of the rising of amṛita.