Note 8 — Chapter X

Once on a time, when the great feast of spring-tide8 had arrived, he went with his friends to behold some festal rejoicings in a garden. There he beheld a maiden, the daughter of king Bimbaki, who had come to see the show, looking like the goddess of the Splendour of Spring present in bodily form. She, by name Mṛigánkavatí, that moment penetrated into his heart, as if through the openings left by the expansion of his eye. Her passionate look too, indicative of the beginning of love, fixed on him, went and returned like a confidante. When she entered a thicket of trees, Śrídatta not beholding her, suddenly felt his heart so empty that he did not know where he was. His friend Báhuśálin, who thoroughly understood the language of gestures, said to him, “My friend, I know your heart, do not deny your passion, therefore, come, let us go to that part of the garden where the king’s daughter is.” He consented and went near her accompanied by his friend. That moment a cry was heard there, which gave great pain to the heart of Śrídatta, “Alas the princess has been bitten by a snake!” Báhuśálin then went and said to the chamberlain—“My friend here possesses a ring that counteracts the effects of poison, and also healing spells.” Immediately the chamberlain came, and bowing at his feet, quickly led Śrídatta to the princess. He placed the ring on her finger, and then muttered his spells so that she revived. Then all the attendants were delighted, and loud in praise of Śrídatta, and the king Bimbaki hearing the circumstances came to the place. Accordingly Śrídatta returned with his friends to the house of Báhuśálin without taking back the ring. And all the gold and other presents, which the delighted king sent to him there, he handed over to the father of Báhuśálin. Then, thinking upon that fair one, he was so much afflicted, that his friends became utterly bewildered as to what to do with him. Then a dear friend of the princess, Bhávaniká, by name, came to him on pretence of returning the ring; and said to him, “That friend of mine, illustrious Sir, has made up her mind, that either you must save her life by becoming her husband, or she will be married to her grave.” When Bhávaniká had said this, Śrídatta and Báhuśálin and the others quickly put their heads together and came to the following resolution, “We will carry off this princess secretly by a stratagem, and will go unperceived from here to Mathurá and live there.” The plan having been thoroughly talked over, and the conspirators having agreed with one another what each was to do in order to carry it out, Bhávaniká then departed. And the next day Báhuśálin, accompanied by three of his friends, went to Mathurá on pretext of trafficking, and as he went he posted in concealment at intervals swift horses for the conveyance of the princess. But Śrídatta then brought at eventide a woman with her daughter into the palace of the princess, after making them both drink spirits, and then Bhávaniká, on pretence of lighting up the palace, set fire to it, and secretly conveyed the princess out of it; and that moment Śrídatta, who was remaining outside, received her, and sent her on to Báhuśálin, who had started in the morning, and directed two of his friends to attend on her and also Bhávaniká. Now that drunken woman and her daughter were burnt in the palace of the princess, and people supposed that the princess had been burnt with her friend. But Śrídatta took care to show himself in the morning as before, in the city; then on the second night, taking with him his sword Mṛigánka, he started to follow his beloved, who had set out before him. And in his eagerness he accomplished a great distance that night, and when the morning watch9 had passed, he reached the Vindhya forest. There he first beheld unlucky omens, and afterwards he saw all those friends of his together with Bhávaniká lying in the road gashed with wounds. And when he came up all distracted, they said to him, “We were robbed to-day by a large troop of horsemen that set upon us. And after we were reduced to this state, one of the horsemen threw the terrified princess on his horse and carried her off. So before she has been carried to a great distance, go in this direction, do not remain near us, she is certainly of more importance than we.” Being urged on with these words by his friends, Śrídatta rapidly followed after the princess, but could not help frequently turning round to look at them. And after he had gone a considerable distance, he caught up that troop of cavalry, and he saw a young man of the warrior caste in the midst of it. And he beheld that princess held by him upon his horse. So he slowly approached that young warrior; and when soft words would not induce him to let the princess go, he hurled him from his horse with a blow of his foot, and dashed him to pieces on a rock. And after he had slain him, he mounted on his horse and slew a great number of the other horsemen who charged him in anger. And then those who remained alive, seeing that the might which the hero displayed was more than human, fled away in terror; and Śrídatta mounted on the horse with the princess Mṛigánkavatí and set out to find those friends of his. And after he had gone a little way, he and his wife got off the horse which had been severely wounded in the fight, and soon after it fell down and died. And then his beloved Mṛigánkavatí, exhausted with fear and exertion, became very thirsty. And leaving her there, he roamed a long distance hither and thither, and while he was looking for water the sun set. Then he discovered that, though he had found water, he had lost his way, and he passed that night in the wood roaming about, moaning aloud like a Chakraváka.10 And in the morning he reached that place, which was easy to recognise by the carcass of the horse. And nowhere there did he behold his beloved princess. Then in his distraction he placed his sword Mṛigánka on the ground, and climbed to the top of a tree, in order to cast his eye in all directions for her. That very moment a certain Śavara chieftain passed that way; and he came up and took the sword from the foot of the tree. Beholding that Śavara chieftain, Śrídatta came down from the top of the tree, and in great grief asked him for news of his beloved. The Śavara chieftain said—“Leave this place and come to my village; I have no doubt she whom you seek has gone there; and I shall come there and return you this sword.” When the Śavara chieftain urged him to go with these words, Śrídatta, being himself all eagerness, went to that village with the chief’s men. And there those men said to him,—“Sleep off your fatigue,”—and when he reached the house of the chief of the village, being tired he went to sleep in an instant. And when he woke up he saw his two feet fastened with fetters, like the two efforts he had made in order to obtain his beloved, which failed to reach their object. Then he remained there weeping for his darling, who, like the course of destiny, had for a moment brought him joy, and the next moment blasted his hopes.