think of
anything at all? And now thou hast suddenly awaked me from a dream,
which in my folly I had imagined would never have an end, but last for
ever. And lo! it is gone, and all is over, and finished, almost before
it has begun.

And Atirupa said in a whisper: Say rather, O Aranyani, that the dream is
only just beginning.

And she answered angrily: Dost thou think it then so easy for a flower
to consent to be torn up by the roots, and carried from its home no
matter where? For like a flower I am rooted in this wood, where I have
lived and grown since the beginning, with my father and the trees, and
the creepers, and the deer. And now thou hast placed thyself, with a
sudden flash of lightning, in opposition to it all; and thou wouldst
make me choose, threatening to go away and leave me, unless I sacrifice
it all, to go into the darkness, I know not where, with thee. Dost thou
think the choice is easy which will utterly destroy me, whichever way it
falls? Thou art the cause of all, and resemblest a knife, that bids me
to consent and rejoice, while it cuts my heart in two, possessing
absolutely no heart whatever of its own.

And Atirupa said gently: Alas! Aranyani, thou art utterly unjust, and
this was my very fear, that when I offered thee to choose between the
wood, which is thy past, and myself, who am thy future, I should seem to
thee utterly of no account, and light in the balance, weighed against
what I asked thee to resign. I say, thou blamest me unjustly, when I am
absolutely blameless, unless indeed it be a fault, to love thee, for
which not I, but thyself, or rather the Creator is to blame, for making
thee exactly what thou art. Who can blame the butter for melting in the
flame, or make it a crime in the ocean, for rising in tumult and
agitation at the sight of the tender digit of the moon? Is it my fault,
if I must go away, since after all my kingdom is in need of me, and even
as it is, I have remained here too long, and all on thy account? And
what can I do but ask thee to come with me, since unless we are to part,
there is absolutely nothing else to do? And does not every maiden do the
same? Did not Shakuntala abandon her home and her relations in the
forest, to follow King Dushmanta? And did not even the Daughter of the
Snow abandon, not only her father, but even her own body, for the sake
of the Moony-crested god? And art thou fearful, O thou intoxicating
child, to go into the dark? But what will dar