Chapter 19

The East to Columbia

Sister Columbia, wonderful sister,

Weariless wings on aerial way!

Tell us the lore of thy loftiness, sister,

We of the dark are astir for the day!

Give us the gift of thy marvelous wings,

Spell us the charm that Columbia sings!


 

Oversea sister, affluent sister,

Queen inexclusive, though out of our reach!

How is thy genius ever unruffled?

What is the talisman altitudes teach?

Measureless meed of ability thine,

What is the goal of thy heart’s design?


 

How shall we learn of it? How shall we follow?

Heavy the burden of earth where we lie!

Only a glimpse of thy miracle stirs us,

Stay in our wallow and teach us to fly!

How shall we spring to Columbia’s call?

Oh, that thy wings could unweary us all!

 

"I am as simple as the sunlight!"

Tess was in something very near to paradise, if paradise is constant
assuaging of the curiosity amid surroundings that conduce to idleness.
There were men on that country-side in plenty who would not have dared
admit a Western woman into their homes; but even those could hardly
prevent wives and daughters from visiting Yasmini in the perfectly
correct establishment she kept. And there were other men, more fearless
of convention, who were willing that Tess, if veiled, should cross their
private thresholds.

So there followed a round of visits and return calls, of other marvelous
rides by elephant at night, because the daytime was too hot for comfort,
and oftener, long drives in latticed carriages, with footmen up behind and
an escort to ride before and swear at the lethargic bullock-men—carriages
that bumped along the country roads on strange, old-fashioned springs.

Yasmini was welcome everywhere, and, in the cautious, tenfold guarded
Eastern way, kept open house. The women reveled in her free ideas
and in the wit with which she heaped scorn on the priest-made fashions
that have kept all India in chains for centuries, mocking the priests, as
some thought, at the risk of blasphemy.

Almost as much as in Yasmini’s daring they took ingenuous delight in
Tess, persuading Yasmini to interpret questions and reply or, very rarely,
bringing with them some duenna who had a smattering of English.

All imprisoned folk, and especially women in the shuttered zenanas
of the East, develop a news-sense of their own that passes the
comprehension of free-ranging mortals. They were astonishingly well
informed about the outer world—even the far-flung outer world, yet
asked the most childish questions; and only a few of them could have
written their own names,—they who were titled ladies of a land of ancient
chivalry.

"Wait until I am maharanee!" Yasmini said. "The women have always
ruled India. Women rule the English, though the English hate the thought
of it and make believe otherwise. With the aid of women I will change
the face of India,—the women and the gods!"

But she was careful of her promises, holding out no prospects that
would stir premature activity among the ranks she counted on.

"Promise the gods too much," she said, "and the gods overwhelm you.
They like to serve, which is their business, not to have you squandering
on them. Tell the women they are rulers, and they will start to destroy
their empire by making public what is secret! If you tell the men that
the women rule them, what will the men do?"

"Shut them up all the closer, I suppose," suggested Tess.

"Is that what they ever did? No. They will choose for them certain
offices they can not fill because of inexperience, and put the noisiest
women in them, and make mock of them, and laugh! Not for a long
time yet must India know who rules her!"

"Child, where did you learn all your philosophy?" Tess asked her, one
night when they were watching the stars from the bedroom window-seat.

"Oh, men taught me this and that thing, and I have always reversed it
and believed the opposite. Why do men teach? To make you free,
or to bind you to their own wheel? The English teach that English ways
are good for the world. I answer that the world has been good to England
and the English would like to keep it so! The pundits say we should
study the philosophies. They made me study, hours and hours when
I was little. Why? To bind me to the wheel of their philosophy, and
keep me subject to them! I say philosophy is good for pundits, as a
pond is good for frogs; but shall I be a frog, too, and croak about the
beauties of the mud? The priests say we should obey them, and pray,
and make offerings, and keep the religious law. I say, that religion is
good for priests, which is why they cherish it, and add to it, and persuade
foolish women to believe it! As for the gods, if they are anything they
are our servants!"

"Your husband is going to have an interesting time," laughed Tess.

Yasmini’s blue eyes suddenly turned soft and serious.

"Do you think I can not be a wife "’ she asked. "Do you suppose there
is no mother-love in me? Do you think I do not understand how a man
needs cherishing? Do you think I will preach to my husband, or oppose
his plans? No! I will do as the gods do when the priests are asleep!
I will let him go his own way, and will go with him, never holding back;
and little by little he will learn that I have understanding. Little by little
he will grow into knowledge of the things I know—and he will be a very
great man!"

There were no visits whatever from Utirupa, for the country-side would
have been scandalized. Only, flowers came every day in enormous
quantities; and there was a wealth of horses, carriages, jewels and
armed men at his bride’s disposal that proved he had not forgotten
her existence or her needs. She had claimed marriage to him by
Gandharva rite, and he had tacitly consented, but she was not ready
yet to try conclusions with the secret, octopus influence of the priests;
and there was another reason.

"If it should get to Samson’s cars that he and I are married, that would
be the end of his chance of the throne of Sialpore. Samson is English
of the English. He would oppose to the end the nomination of a maha-rajah,
whose wife has notions of her own—as I am known to have! They like him—
my husband—because he plays good polo, and will bet with them, and
can play cricket; and because he seems to follow no special line of politics.
But if it were known he had a clever wife—me for wife—they would have
none of him! I shall be a surprise for them when the die is cast!"

Tess was in almost daily communication with Dick, for, what with Tom Tripe
and Sita Ram and about a dozen other sworn accomplices, Yasmini
had messages coming and going all the time. Camels used to arrive
long after dark, and letters were brought in, smelly with the sweat of loyal
riders who had hidden them from too inquisitive police. Most of them
carried back a scribbled word for Dick. But he said nothing about the
treasure in his curt, anonymous, unsigned replies, being nervous about
sending messages at all.

Only, when in one letter he mentioned digging in another place, and
Tess read the sentence aloud, Yasmini squealed with delight. The next
day her own advices confirmed the hint, Sita Ram sending a long account
of new developments and adding that "Samson sahib is much exercised
in mind about it."

"All goes well!" Yasmini belled in her golden voice. "Samson has seen
the hidden meaning of my letter! If I had told him bluntly where the
treasure is, he would have laughed and forgotten it! But because he
thinks he reads the secret of my mind, he flatters himself and falls into
the trap! Now we have Samson caught, and all is well!"

"It would be a very canny person who could read the secret of your mind,

I should say!" laughed Tess.

 

"I am as simple as the sunlight!" Yasmini answered honestly. "It is

Samson who is dark, not I."

 

Yasmini began making ready for departure, giving a thousand orders
to dependents she could trust.

"At the polo game," she asked Tess, "when the English ask questions
as to where you have been, and what you saw, what will you tell them?"

"Why not the truth? Samson expressly asked me to cultivate
your acquaintance."

"Splendid! Tell them you traveled on camel-back by night across the
desert with me! By the time they have believed that we will think of
more to add to it! We return by elephant to Sialpore together, timing
our arrival for the polo game. There we separate. You watch the game
together with your husband. I shall be in a closed carriage—part of
the time. I shall be there all the time, but I don’t think you will see me."

"But you say they have rifled your palace. Where will you sleep?" Tess asked.

"At your house on the hill!"

"But that is in Gungadhura’s territory. Aren’t you afraid of him?"

"Of Gungadhura? I? I never was! But now whoever fears him would
run from a broken snake. I have word that the fool has murdered
Mukhum Dass the money-lender. You may trust the English to draw
his teeth nicely for him after that! Gungadhura is like a tiger in a net
he can not break!"

"He might send men to break into the house," Tess argued.

"There will be sharper eyes than any of his watching!"

But Tess was alarmed at the prospect. She did not mind in the least
what the English might have to say about it afterward; but to have her
little house the center of nocturnal feuds, with her husband using his
six-shooters, and heaven only knew what bloodshed resulting, was
more of a prospect than she looked forward to.

"Sister," said Yasmini, taking her by both hands. "I must use your house.

There is no other place."

 

No one could refuse her when her deep blue eyes grew soft and pleading,
let alone Tess, who had lived with her and loved her for a week.

"Very well," she answered; and Yasmini’s eyes softened and brightened
even more.

"I shall not forget!"

Getting ready was no child’s play. It was to be a leisurely procession
in the olden style, with tents, servants, and all the host of paraphernalia
and hangers-on that that entails; not across the desert this time, but
around the edge of it, the way the polo ponies went, and out of Gungadhura’s
reach. For, however truly Yasmini might declare that she was not afraid
of Gungadhura (and she vowed she never boasted), she was running
no unnecessary risks; it takes a long time for the last rats to desert a
sinking ship, (the obstinate go down with it), and just as long for the
last assassins to change politics. She was eager to run all the risks
when that was the surest strategy, but cautious otherwise.

The secret of her safety lay in the inviolable privacy surrounding woman’s
life in all that part of India—privacy that the English have respected partly
because of their own inherent sense of personal retirement, partly
because it was the easiest way and saved trouble; but mainly because
India’s women have no ostensible political power, and there is politics
enough without bringing new millions more potential agitators into light.
So word of her life among the women did not travel swiftly to official
ears, as that of a male intriguer would certainly have done. Utirupa
was busy all day long with polo, and the Powers that Be were sure of it,
and pleased. What Gungadhura knew, or guessed, was another matter;
but Gungadhura had his own hands full just then.

So they formed part of a procession that straggled along the miles,
of elephants, camels and groups of ponies, carts loaded with tents,
chattering servants, parties of Rajput gentlemen, beggars, hangers-on,
retainers armed with ancient swords, mountebanks, several carriage-loads
of women, who could sing and dance and were as particular about their
veiling as if Lalun were not their ancestress, the inevitable faquirs,
camel-loads of entertainers, water-carriers, sheep, asses, and bullock-drawn,
squeaking two-wheeled carts aburst with all that men and animals could eat.
Three days and nights of circus life, as Tess described it afterward to Dick.

Yasmini and Tess rode part of the way on an elephant, lying full-length
in the hooded howdah with a view of all the country-side, starting before
dawn and resting through the long heat of the day. But monotony formed
no part of Yasmini’s scheme of life, and daring was the very breath she
breathed. Most of the time they rode horseback together, disguised
as men and taking to the fields whenever other parties drew too close.
But sometimes Yasmini left Tess on the elephant, and mingled freely
with the crowd, her own resourcefulness and intimate knowledge of
the language and the customs enough protection.

Nights were the amazing time. A great camp spread out under ancient
trees—bonfires glowing everywhere, and native followers squatted around
them,—long, whinnying horse-lines—elephants, great gurgling shadows,
swaying at their pickets—shouting, laughter, music,—and, over all, soft
purple darkness and the stars.

For it was something more than a mere polo tournament that they were
traveling to. It had grown out of a custom abolished by the government,
of traveling once a year to Sialpore to air and consider grievances—
a custom dating from long before the British occupation, when the princes
of the different states were all in rival camps and that was about the
only opportunity to meet on reasonably friendly terms. In later years
it had looked like developing into a focus of political solidity; so some
ingenious commissioner had introduced the polo element, eliminating,
item after item, all the rest. Then the date had been changed to the
early hot weather, in order to reduce attendance; but the only effect
that had was to keep away the English from outlying provinces. It was
the one chance that part of Rajputana had to get together, and the
Rajputs swarmed to the tournament—along the main trunk road that
the English had reconstructed in early days for the swifter movement
of their guns. (It did not follow any particular trade route, although trade
had found its way afterward along it.)

Yasmini saw Utirupa every night, she apparently as much a man as
he in turban and the comfortable Rajput costume—shorter by a bead,
but as straight-standing and as agile. Tess and Hasamurti used to
watch them under the trees, ready to give the alarm in case of interruption,
sometimes near enough to catch the murmured flow of confidence
uniting them in secrecy of sacred, unconforming interviews. It was
common knowledge that Yasmini was in the camp, but she was always
supposed to be tented safely on the outskirts, with her women and a
guard of watchful servants all about her. There was no risk of an affront
to her in any case; it was known that Utirupa would attend to that.

Each night between the bonfires there was entertainment—men who
walked tight-ropes, wrestlers, a performing horse, ballad-singers and,
dearest delight of all, the tellers of Eastern tales, who sat with silent
rings of men about them and reeled off the old, loved, impossible
adventures of the days when the gods walked with men on earth—stories
of miracles and love and derring-do, with heroes who could fight a
hundred men unscathed, and heroines to set the heart on fire.

Then off again before sunrise in the cool amid the shouting and confusion
of a breaking camp, with truant ponies to be hunted, and everybody
yelling for his right of road, and the elephants sauntering urbanely through
it all with trunks alert for pickings from the hay-carts. They were nights
and days superbly gorgeous, all-entertaining, affluent of humor.

Then on the third day, nearing Sialpore toward evening they filed past
two batteries of Royal Horse Artillery, drawn up on a level place beside
the road to let them by—an act of courtesy not unconnected with its
own reward. It is never a bad plan to let the possibly rebellious take
a long look at the engines of enforcement.

"Ah!" laughed Yasmini, up in the howdah now beside Tess on the elephant,
"the guns of the gods! I said the gods were helping us!"

"Look like English guns to me," Tess answered.

"So think the English, too. So thinks Samson who sent for them. So, too,
perhaps Gungadhura will think when he knows the guns are coming!
But I know better. I never promise the gods too much, but let them
make me promises, and look on while they perform them. I tell you,
those are the guns of the gods!"