"But not defying the laws of nature, as interpreted by a wise Brahmin!"

a shrill, age-cracked voice broke in, and Deo Singh, the old prime minister who had come down the garden trail on silent, slippered feet, stepped into the open.

"No! By Shiva and by Shiva! Not the laws of nature, the eternal laws of logic, as interpreted by a priest well versed in Sruti and Smriti--in revelation and tradition. Not the laws of nature, rational and evidential, physical and metaphysical, a.n.a.lytical and synthetical, philosophical, and philological, as expounded by a Parohita familiar with the Vedas and the blessed wisdom of the ancient Upanishads of Hind!"

He salaamed low before Vikramavati.

"It is written in the Bhagavad Gita, the Book of Books, the Lay of Brahm the Lord, that each crime shall find condign punishment, be it committed by high caste or low caste, by prince or peasant, by raja or ryot. To each his punishment, says the Karma, which is fate!"

"And--these two?" demanded Vikramavati. "What punishment shall be meted out to the faithless woman and the faithless captain of horse, Brahmin?"

Deo Singh spread out his fingers like the sticks of a fan.

"They have chosen their own sentence, these worshipers of Kartikeya, G.o.d of Rogues and Rascals," he chuckled. "Of a chain they spoke. An unbreakable chain that defies all laws, except belike"--again he laughed deep in his throat--"the wise laws of nature. Weld them together with such a chain, forged by a master smith, made so strong that not even a tough-thewed captain of horse may break it with the clouting muscles of his arms and back. A chain, ten feet long, so that they may never be far away from each other, so that they may always be able to slake the hot, turbulent thirst of love, so that they may never have to wait for the thrill of fulfillment as a beggar waits at life's feast, so that day and night, each hour, each minute, each second they may revel in the sunshine of their love, so that never they may have to stand helpless before the flood-tide of their desire.

"Grant them their wish, O king, being wise and merciful; and then lock them into a room containing the choicest food, the sweetest drinks, the whitest flowers, the softest, silkenest couch draped with purple and gold. A room such as lovers dream of--and fools! Leave them there together for three days, three nights, three sobbing, crunching, killing eternities! With no sound, no touch, no scent, no taste, but their own voices, their own hearts and souls and minds and bodies! And at the end of the three days----"

"Yes?" asked Vikramavati.

"They will have suffered the worst punishment, the worst agony on earth.

Slowly, slowly for three days, three nights, three eternities, they will have watched the honey of their love turn, drop by drop, into gall.

Their pa.s.sion--slowly, slowly--will turn into loathing; their desire into disgust. For no love in the world can survive the chain of monotony!"

Thus it was done.

A chain of unbreakable steel, ten feet long, was welded to the girl's right wrist and the man's left, and they were locked into a house--a house such as lovers dream of--that was guarded day and night by armed warriors, who let none within hailing distance, whose windows were shuttered and curtained so that not even the golden eye of the sun might look in, and around which a vast circular clearing had been made with torch and spade and scimitar so that neither bird nor insect nor beast of forest and jungle might live there and no sound drift into the lovers' room except, perhaps, the crooning sob of the dawn wind; and at the end of the third night carefully, stealthily, silently the king and the Brahmin walked up to the house and pressed their ears against the keyhole, and they heard the man's voice saying:

"I love you, little flower of my happiness! I love you--you who are all my dreams come true! When I look into your face the sun rises, and the waters bring the call of the deep, and the boat of my life rocks on the dancing waves of pa.s.sion!"

And then the girl's answer, clear, serene:

"And I love _you_, Madusadan, captain of horse! You have broken the fetters of my loneliness, the shackles of my longing! I waited, waited, waited--but you came, and I shall never let you go again! You have banished all the drab, sad dreams of the past! You have made your heart a prison for my love, and you have tossed away the key into the turbulent whirlpool of my eternal desire!"

_"Did the chain gall them?" asked the Foolish Virgin, who had come to Jehan Tugluk Khan, a wise man in Tartary and milk brother to Ghengiz Khan, Emperor of the East and the North and Captain General of the Golden Horde._

_"No, Foolish Virgin," replied Jehan Tugluk Khan. "Their love could not have lived without the chain. It was their love which WAS the chain--made it, held it, welded it, eternal, unbreaking, unbreakable. Ten feet long was the chain. Each foot of steel--eternal, unbreaking, unbreakable--was a link of their love, and these links were: Pa.s.sion, patience, completion, friendship, tolerance, understanding, tenderness, forgiveness, service, humor."_

_This is the end of the tale of Vasantasena, the slave who was free in her own heart, and of Madusadan, a captain of horse, who plucked the white rose without fearing the thorns._

_And, says the tale, if you would make your chain doubly unbreakable, add another foot to it, another link. There is no word for it. But, by the strength and sense of it, you must never lull your love to sleep in the soft cradle of too great security._

_For love demands eternal vigilance._

_LISTEN, O AZZIA, O BELOVED, TO MY JATAKA!_

SECOND TALE

OUT OF THE DARK

BY MAX BRAND

The princ.i.p.ality of p.o.r.nia is not a large country and in the ordinary course of history it should have been swallowed entire, centuries ago, by one of the kingdoms which surround it. Its situation has saved it from this fate, for it is the buffer state between two great monarchies whose jealousy has preserved for p.o.r.nia an independent existence.

Despite its independence, p.o.r.nia has never received much consideration from the rest of Europe, and the aim of its princes for many generations has been to foist it into the great councils by a strong alliance with one of the two kingdoms to which it serves as a buffer.

The long-desired opportunity came at last in the reign of Alexander VI, who, one morning, commanded Rudolph of Herzvina to appear at the palace.

As soon as the worthy old baron appeared, Alexander spoke to him as follows: "Rudolph, you are an old and respected counselor, a devoted servant of the State, and therefore I am delighted to announce that the greatest honor is about to descend upon your family, an honor so great that the entire State of p.o.r.nia will be elevated thereby. The Crown Prince Charles wishes to make your daughter his wife!"

At this he stepped back, the better to note the joy with which old Rudolph would receive this announcement, but, to his astonishment, the baron merely bowed his head and sighed.

"Your highness," said Rudolph of Herzvina, "I have long known of the attachment which the crown prince has for my daughter, Bertha, but I fear that the marriage can never be consummated."

"Come, come!" said the prince genially. "It is a far leap indeed from Baron of Herzvina to father-in-law to Prince Charles, but there have been stranger things in history than this, though never anything that could so effectually elevate p.o.r.nia. Have no fear of Charles. He loves your daughter; he is strong-minded as the very devil; he will override any opposition from his father. As a matter of fact, it is no secret that Charles is already practically the ruler over his kingdom. So rejoice, Herzvina, and I will rejoice with you!"

But the baron merely shook his head sadly and repeated: "I fear the marriage can never be consummated."

"Why not?" said the prince in some heat. "I tell you, his royal highness loves the girl. I could read pa.s.sion even in the stilted language of his amba.s.sador's message. Why not?"

"I was not thinking of his royal highness, but of the girl. She will not marry him."

The prince dropped into a chair with jarring suddenness.

Rudolph continued hastily: "I have talked with Bertha many times and seriously of the matter; I have tried to convince her of her duty; but she will not hear me. The foolish girl says she does not love his highness."

The prince smote his hands together in an ecstasy of impatience.

"Love! Love! In the name of G.o.d, Herzvina, what has love to do with this? This is the thing for which p.o.r.nia has waited during centuries.

Through this alliance I can make a treaty that will place p.o.r.nia once and forever upon the map of the diplomatic powers. Love!"

"I have said all this to her, but she is obdurate."

"Does she expect some fairy prince? She is not a child; she is not even--forgive me--beautiful."

"True. She is not even pretty, but even homely women, your highness, will sometimes think of love. It is a weakness of the s.e.x."

He was not satirical; he was very earnest indeed. He continued: "I have tried every persuasion. She only says in reply: 'He is too old. I cannot love him.'"

An inspiration came to Alexander of p.o.r.nia. Under the stress of it he rose and so far forgot himself as to clap a hand upon the shoulder of Herzvina. In so doing he had to reach up almost as high as his head, for the princes of p.o.r.nia have been small men, time out of mind.

"Baron," he said, "will you let me try my hand at persuasion?"

"It would be an honor, sire. My family is ever at the disposal of my prince."

He answered with a touch of emotion: "I know it, Rudolph; but will you trust the girl in my hands for a number of days? A thought has come to me. I know I can convince her that this love of which she dreams is a thing of the flesh alone, a physical necessity. Come, send her to me, and I shall tear away her illusions. She will not thank me for it, but she will marry the crown prince."