the ninth vibration-第6部分

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〃Was　that　our　only　meeting？〃

〃We　meet　every　night；　but　you　forget　when　the　day　brings　the　sleep　of　the　soul。　…　You　do　not　sink　deep　enough　into　rest　to　remember。　You　float　on　the　surface　where　the　little　bubbles　of　foolish　dream　are　about　you　and　I　cannot　reach　you　then。〃

〃How　can　I　compel　myself　to　the　deeps？〃

〃You　cannot。　It　will　come。　But　when　you　have　passed　up　the　bridle　way　and　beyond　the　Shipki；　stop　at　Gyumur。　There　is　the　Monastery　of　Tashigong；　and　there　one　will　meet　you…

〃His　name？〃

〃Stephen　Clifden。　He　will　tell　you　what　you　desire　to　know。　Continue　on　then　with　him　to　Yarkhand。　There　in　the　Ninth　Vibration　we　shall　meet　again。　It　is　a　long　journey　but　you　will　be　content。〃

〃Do　you　certainly　know　that　we　shall　meet　again？〃

〃When　you　have　learnt；　we　can　meet　when　we　will。　He　will　teach　you　the　Laya　Yoga。　You　should　not　linger　here　in　the　woods　any　longer。　You　should　go　on。　In　three　days　it　will　be　possible。〃

〃But　how　have　you　learnt　…　a　girl　and　young？〃

〃Through　a　close　union　with　Nature　…　that　is　one　of　the　three　roads。　But　I　know　little　as　yet。　Now　take　my　hand　and　come。

〃One　last　question。　Is　this　house　ruined　and　abject　as　I　have　seen　it　in　the　daylight；　or　royal　and　the　house　of　Gods　as　we　see　it　now？　Which　is　truth？〃

〃In　the　day　you　saw　it　in　the　empty　illusion　of　blind　thought。　Tonight；　eternally　lovely　as　in　the　thought　of　the　man　who　made　it。　Nothing　that　is　beautiful　is　lost；　though　in　the　sight　of　the　unwise　it　seems　to　die。　Death　is　in　the　eyes　we　look　through　…　when　they　are　cleansed　we　see　Life　only。　Now　take　my　hand　and　come。　Delay　no　more。〃

She　caught　my　hand　and　we　entered　the　dim　magnificence　of　the　great　hall。　The　moon　entered　with　us。

Instantly　I　had　the　feeling　of　supernatural　presence。　Yet　I　only　write　this　in　deference　to　common　use；　for　it　was　absolutely　natural　…　more　so　than　any　I　have　met　in　the　state　called　daily　life。　It　was　a　thing　in　which　I　had　a　part；　and　if　this　was　supernatural　so　also　was　I。

Again　I　saw　the　Dark　One；　the　Beloved；　the　young　Krishna；　above　the　women　who　loved　him。　He　motioned　with　his　hand　as　we　passed；　as　though　he　waved　us　smiling　on　our　way。　Again　the　dancers　moved　in　a　rhythmic　tread　to　the　feet　of　the　mountain　Goddess　…　again　we　followed　to　where　she　bent　to　hear。　But　now；　solemn　listening　faces　crowded　in　the　shadows　about　her；　grave　eyes　fixed　immovably　upon　what　lay　at　her　feet　…　a　man；　submerged　in　the　pure　light　that　fell　from　her　presence；　his　dark　face　stark　and　fine；　lips　locked；　eyes　shut；　arms　flung　out　cross…wise　in　utter　abandonment；　like　a　figure　of　grief　invisibly　crucified　upon　his　shame。　I　stopped　a　few　feet　from　him；　arrested　by　a　barrier　I　could　not　pass。　Was　it　sleep　or　death　or　some　mysterious　state　that　partook　of　both？　Not　sleep；　for　there　was　no　flutter　of　breath。　Not　death　…　no　rigid　immobility　struck　chill　into　the　air。　It　was　the　state　of　subjection　where　the　spirit　set　free　lies　tranced　in　the　mighty　influences　which　surround　us　invisibly　until　we　have　entered；　though　but　for　a　moment；　the　Ninth　Vibration。

And　now；　with　these　Listeners　about　us；　a　clear　voice　began　and　stirred　the　air　with　music。　I　have　since　been　asked　in　what　tongue　it　spoke　and　could　only　answer　that　it　reached　my　ears　in　the　words　of　my　childhood；　and　that　I　know　whatever　that　language　had　been　it　would　so　have　reached　me。

〃Great　Lady；　hear　the　story　of　this　man's　fall；　for　it　is　the　story　of　man。　Be　pitiful　to　the　blind　eyes　and　give　them　light。〃

There　was　long　since　in　Ranipur　a　mighty　King　and　at　his　birth　the　wise　men　declared　that　unless　he　cast　aside　all　passions　that　debase　the　soul；　relinquishing　the　lower　desires　for　the　higher　until　a　Princess　laden　with　great　gifts　should　come　to　be　his　bride；　he　would　experience　great　and　terrible　misfortunes。　And　his　royal　parents　did　what　they　could　to　possess　him　with　this　belief；　but　they　died　before　he　reached　manhood。　Behold　him　then；　a　young　King　in　his　palace；　surrounded　with　splendour。　How　should　he　withstand　the　passionate　crying　of　the　flesh　or　believe　that　through　pleasure　comes　satiety　and　the　loss　of　that　in　the　spirit　whereby　alone　pleasure　can　be　enjoyed？　For　his　gift　was　that　he　could　win　all　hearts。　They　swarmed　round　him　like　hiving　bees　and　hovered　about　him　like　butterflies。　Sometimes　he　brushed　them　off。　Often　he　caressed　them；　and　when　this　happened；　each　thought　proudly　〃I　am　the　Royal　Favourite。　There　is　none　other　than　me。〃

Also　the　Princess　delayed　who　would　be　the　crest…jewel　of　the　crown；　bringing　with　her　all　good　and　the　blessing　of　the　High　Gods；　and　in　consequence　of　all　these　things　the　King　took　such　pleasures　as　he　could；　and　they　were　many；　not　knowing　they　darken　the　inner　eye　whereby　what　is　royal　is　known　through　disguises。

（Most　pitiful　to　see；　beneath　the　close…shut　lids　of　the　man　at　the　feet　of　the　Dweller　in　the　Heights；　tears　forced　themselves；　as　though　a　corpse　dead　to　all　else　lived　only　to　anguish。　They　flowed　like　blood…drops　upon　his　face　as　he　lay　enduring；　and　the　voice　proceeded。）　What　was　the　charm　of　the　King？　Was　it　his　stately　height　and　strength？　Or　his　faithless　gayety？　Or　his　voice；　deep　and　soft　as　the　sitar　when　it　sings　of　love？　His　women　said　…　some　one　thing；　some　another；　but　none　of　these　ladies　were　of　royal　blood；　and　therefore　they　knew　not。

Now　one　day；　the　all…privileged　jester　of　the　King；　said；　laughing　harshly：

〃Maharaj；　you　divert　yourself。　But　how　if；　while　we　feast　and　play；　the　Far　Away　Princess　glided　past　and　was　gone；　unknown　and　unwelcomed？〃

And　the　King　replied：

〃Fool；　content　yourself。　I　shall　know　my　Princess；　but　she　delays　so　long　that　I　weary。

Now　in　a　far　away　country　was　a　Princess；　daughter　of　the　Greatest；　and　her　Father　hesitated　to　give　her　in　marriage　to　such　a　King　for　all　reported　that　he　was　faithless　of　heart；　but　having　seen　his　portrait　she　loved　him　and　fled　in　disguise　from　the　palaces　of　her　Father；　and　being　captured　she　was　brought　before　the　King　in　Ranipur。

He　sat　upon　a　cloth　of　gold　and　about　him　was　the　game　he　had　killed　in　hunting；　in　great　masses　of　ruffled　fur　and　plumage；　and　he　turned　the　beauty　of　his　face　carelessly　upon　her；　and　as　the　Princess　looked　upon　him；　her　heart　yearned　to　him；　and　he　said　in　his　voice　that　was　like　the　male　string　of　the　sitar：

〃Little　slave；　what　is　your　desire？〃

Then　she　saw　that　the　long　journey　had　scarred　her　feet　and　dimmed　her　hair　with　dust；　and　that　the　King's　eyes；　worn　with　days　and　nights　of　pleasure　did　not　pierce　her　disguise。　Now　in　her　land　it　is　a　custom　that　the　blood　royal　must　not　proclaim　itself；　so　she　folded　her　hands　and　said　gently：

〃A　place　in　the　household　of　the　King。〃　And　he；　hearing　that　the　Waiting　slave　of　his　chief　favorite　Jayashri　was　dead；　gave　her　that　place。　So　the　Princess　attended　on　those　ladies；　courteous　and　obedient　to　all　authority　as　beseemed　her　royalty；　and　she　braided　her　bright　hair　so　that　it　hid　the　little　crowns　which　the　Princesses　of　her　House　must　wear　always　in　token　of　their　rank；　and　every　day　her　patience　strengthened。

Sometimes　the　King；　carelessly　desiring　her　laughing　face　and　sad　eyes；　would　send　for　her　to　wile　away　an　hour；　and　he　would　say；　〃Dance；　little　slave；　and　tell　me　stories　of　the　far　countries。　You　quite　unlike　my　Women；　doubtless　because　you　are　a　slave。〃

And　she　thought　…　〃No；　but　because　I　am　a　Princess；〃　…　but　this　she　did　not　say。　She　laughed　and　told　him　the　most　marvellous　stories　in　the　world　until　he　laid　his　head　upon　her　warm　bosom；　dreaming　awake。

There　were　stories　of　the　great　Himalayan　solitudes　where　in　the　winter　nights　the　white　tiger　stares　at　the　witches'　dance　of　the　Northern　Lights　dazzled　by　the　hurtling　of　their　myriad　spears。　And　she　told　how　the　King…eagle；　hanging　motionless　over　the　peaks　of　Gaurisankar；　watches　with　golden　eyes　for　his　prey；　and　falling　like　a　plummet　strikes　its　life　out　with　his　clawed　heel　and；　screaming　with　triumph；　bears　it　to　his　fierce　mate　in　her　cranny　of　the　rocks。

〃A　gallant　story！〃　the　King　would　say。　〃More！〃　Then　she　told　of　the　tropical　heats　and　the　stealthy　deadly　creatures　of　forest　and　jungle；　and　the　blue　lotus　of　Buddha　swaying　on　the　still　lagoon；…　And　she　spoke　of　loves　of　men　and　women；　their　passion　and　pain　and　joy。　And　when　she　told　of　their　fidelity　and　valour　and　honour　that　death　cannot　quench；　her　voice　was　like　the　song　of　a　minstrel；　for　she　had　read　all　the　stories　of　the　ages　and　the　heart　of　a　Princess　told　her　the　rest。　And　the　King　listened　unwearying　though　he　believed　this　was　but　a　slave。

（The　face　of　the　man　at　the　feet　of　the　Dweller　in　the　Heights　twitched　in　a　white　agony。　Pearls　of　sweat　were　distilled　upon　his　brows；　but　he　moved　neither　hand　nor　foot；　enduring　as　in　a　flame　of　fire。　And　the　voice　continued。）

So　one　day；　in　the　misty　green　of　the　Spring；　while　she　rested　at　his　feet　in　the　garden　Pavilion；　he　said　to　her：

〃Little　slave；　why　do　you　love　me？〃

And　she　answered　proudly：

〃Because　you　have　the　heart　of　a　King。〃

He　replied　slowly；

〃Of　the　women　who　have　loved　me　none　gave　this　reason；　though　they　gave　many。〃

She　laid　her　cheek　on　his　hand。

〃That　is　the　true　reason。〃

But　he　drew　it　away　and　was　vaguely　troubled；　for　her　words；　he　knew　not　why；　reminded　him　of　the　Far　Away　Princess　and　of　things　he　had　long　forgotten；　and　he　said；　〃What　does　a　slave　know　of　the　hearts　of　Kings？〃　And　that　night　he　slept　or　waked　alone。

Winter　was　at　hand　with　its　blue　and　cloudless　days；　and　she　was　commanded　to　meet　the　King　where　the　lake　lay　still　and　shining　like　an　ecstasy　of　bliss；　and　she　waited　with　her　chin　dropped　into　the　cup　of　her　hands；　looking　over　the　water　with　eyes　that　did　not　see；　for　her　whole　soul　said；　〃How　long　0　my　Sovereign　Lord；　how　long　before　you　know　the　truth　and　we　enter　together　into　our　Kingdom？〃

As　she　sat　she　heard　the　King's　step；　and　the　colour　stole　up　into　her　face　in　a　flush　like　the　earliest　sunrise。　〃He　is　coming；〃　she　said；　and　again；　〃He　loves　me。〃

So　he　came　beside　the　water；　walking　slowly。　But　the　King　was　not　alone。　His　arm　embraced　the　latest…come　beauty　from　Samarkhand；　and；　with　his　head　bent；　he　whispered　in　her　willing　ear。

Then　clasping　he