Chapter 3Scene 2

The women’s apartments in the Palace at Edur. Comol Cumary, Coomood Cumary. COMOL Tomorrow, Coomood, is the feast of May. COOMOOD Sweetheart, I wish it were the feast of Will. I know what I would will for you. COMOL What, Coomood? COOMOOD A better husband than your father’ll give you. COMOL You mean the Scythian? I will not believe That it can happen. My father’s heart is royal; The blood that throbs through it he drew from veins Of Rajpoot mothers. COOMOOD But the brain’s too politic. A merchant’s mind into his princely skull Slipped in by some mischance, and it will sell you In spite of all the royal heart can say. COMOL He is our father, therefore blame him not.

The Prince of Edur COOMOOD I blame his brain, not him. Sweetheart, remember, Whomever you may marry, I shall claim Half of your husband. COMOL If’t be the Scythian, you may have The whole uncouth barbarian with Cashmere In the bad bargain. COOMOOD We will not let him have you. We’ll find a mantra that shall call Urjoon From Eden’s groves to wed you; great Dushyanta Shall leave Shacoontala for these wide eyes Which you have stolen from the antelope To gaze men’s hearts out of their bodies with, You lovely sorceress; or we’ll have Udaian To ravish you into his rushing car, Edur’s Vasavadutta. We’ll bring crowding The heroes of romance out of the past For you to choose from, sweet, and not a Scythian In all their splendid ranks. COMOL But my poor Coomood, Your hero of romance will never look at you, Finding my antelope eyes so beautiful. What will you do then? COOMOOD I will marry him By sleight of hand and never let him know. For when the nuptial fire is lit and when The nuptial bond is tied, I’ll slip my raiment’s hem Into the knot that weds your marriage robes And take the seven paces with you both

Act I, Scene 2 Weaving my life into one piece with yours For ever. Enter Nirmol Cumary. NIRMOL News, princesses, news! What will you give me for a sackful of news? COMOL Two switches and a birchrod. A backful for your sackful! NIRMOL I will empty my sack first, if only to shame you for your base ingratitude. To begin with what will please you best, Prince Toraman is arrived. I hear he is coming to see and approve of you before he makes the venture; it is the Scythian custom. COMOL He shall not have his Scythian custom. In India it is we girls who have the right of choice. NIRMOL He will not listen. These Scythians stick to their customs as if it were their skin; they will even wear their sheepskins in midsummer in Agra. COMOL Then, Nirmol, we will show you to him for the Princess Comol Cumary and marry you off into the mountains. Would you not love to be the Queen of Cashmere? NIRMOL I would not greatly mind. They say he is big as a Polar bear and has the sweetest little pugnose and cheeks like two fat pouches. They say too he carries a knout in his hand with which he will touch up the bride during the ceremony as a promise of what

The Prince of Edur she may expect hereafter; it is the Scythian custom. Oh, I envy you, Princess. COMOL Nirmol, in sober earnest I will beat you. NIRMOL Strike but hear! For I have still news in my sack. You must gather your traps; we are to start for Dongurh in an hour. What, have I made your eyes smile at last? COMOL To Dongurh! Truth, Nirmol. NIRMOL Beat me in earnest, if it is not. Visaldeo himself told me. COMOL To Dongurh! To the woods! It is three years Since I was there. I wonder whether now The woodland flowers into a sudden blush Crimsoning at the sweet approach of Spring As once it did against that moon`ed white Of myriad blossoms. We shall feel again, Coomood, the mountain breezes kiss our cheeks Standing on treeless ridges and behold The valleys wind unnoticeably below In threads of green. COOMOOD It is the feast of May. Shall we not dance upon the wind-blown peaks And put the peacock’s feather in our hair And think we are in Brindavon the green? NIRMOL With a snubnosed Scythian Krishna to lead the dance. But they say Krishna was neither Scythian nor Rajpoot but a Bheel. Well,

Act I, Scene 2 there is another Krishna of that breed out who will make eighth- century Rookminnies of you if you dance too far into the forest, sweethearts. COOMOOD You mean this boy-captain of robbers who makes such a noise in our little world? Bappa they call him, do they not? NIRMOL ’Tis some such congregation of consonants. Now which sort of husband would the most modern taste approve? — a coal-black sturdy young Bheel, his face as rugged as Rajpootana, or a red and white snubnosed Scythian with two prosperous purses for his cheeks. There’s a problem in aesthetics for you, Coomood. COMOL A barbarous emperor or a hillside thief Are equals in a Rajpoot maiden’s eyes. Yon mountain-peak or some base valley clod, ’Tis one to the heaven-sailing star above That scorns their lowness. NIRMOL Yes, but housed with the emperor the dishonour is lapped in cloth of gold; on the thief’s hillside it is black, naked and rough, its primitive and savage reality. To most women the difference would be great. COMOL Not to me. I wonder they suffer this mountain springald to presume so long. NIRMOL Why, they sent out a captain lately to catch him, but he came back a head shorter than he went. But how do you fancy my news, sweethearts?

The Prince of Edur COMOL What, is your sack empty? NIRMOL Your kingly father was the last to stalk out of it. I expect him here to finish my story. Enter Rana Curran, Menadevi and Visaldeo. CURRAN Maid Comol, are you ready yet for Dongurh? COMOL I heard of it this moment, sir. CURRAN Make ready. Prince Toraman arrives. You blush, my lily? MENADEVI There is a maiden’s blush of bashfulness, But there’s her blush of shame too when her cheeks Offended scorn a suitor far too base Should bring such noble blood to flush their whiteness. CURRAN Maid Comol, which was yours? COMOL I would learn that, Father, from your high sovereign will. I am not The mistress of my blushes. CURRAN Keep them for him, Comol, for whom their sweetness was created. Hearken, my little one, you are marked out To reign an empress; ’tis the stars decree it

Act I, Scene 2 That in their calm irrevocable round Weave all our fates. Then shrink not if thou hearest The noise of battle round thy palanquin Filling the hills, nor fear its rude event, But veil thy cheeks in scarlet to receive Thy warlike husband. COMOL Father! CURRAN It is so. Thou journeyest not to Dongurh but thy nuptials. COMOL With Toraman? CURRAN With one whose lofty doom Is empire. Keep this in thy joyous bosom Throbbing in a sweet secrecy. Farewell. When we foregather next, I hope to greet My little empress. Exit. MENADEVI Comol, what said he to thee? COMOL What I unwillingly have heard. Mother, Must I be mated to a barbarous stock? MENADEVI No, child. When you shall hear the trumpet’s din Or clash of blades, think not ’tis Toraman, But your dear mother’s care to save her child From shameful mating. Little sweetheart, go.

The Prince of Edur When I shall meet you next, you’ll shine a flower Upon the proudest crest in Rajasthan, No Scythian’s portion. Visaldeo, prepare Her going quickly. Exit. COMOL What plots surround me? Nirmol, Give me my sword with me. I’ll have a friend To help me, should the world go wrong. VISALDEO Our self, Lady, is our best helper. COMOL I believe it. Which path’s resolved on? VISALDEO ’Tis the valley road That clings to the deep bases of the hills. COMOL ’Tis not the shortest. VISALDEO The easiest, — to Cashmere. COMOL The other’s safer then for Dongurh. VISALDEO At least ’Tis green and beautiful, and love may walk there Unhindered. Exit.

Act I, Scene 2 COMOL Thou seemst to be my friend, But I’ll believe myself and no one else Except my sword whose sharpness I can trust Not to betray me. Come, girls, make we ready For this planned fateful journey. COOMOOD Let them keep Our palanquins together. One fate for both, Sweetheart. COMOL If we must marry Toraman, Coomood, it shall be in that shadowy country. NIRMOL Where, I hope, justice will have set right the balance between his nose and his cheeks. Girls, we are the prizes of this handicap and I am impatient to know which jockey wins. Exeunt.