t, in the
great temple of the Rajput race, the Mother Goddess shed silence and awe
upon her worshippers. The two lay like mother and son--one slight hand
of the Queen she laid across the little body as if to guard it.

Her work done, she turned to the entrance and watched the dawn coming
glorious over the river. The men shouted and quarreled in the distance,
but she heeded them no more than the chattering of apes. Her heart was
away over the distance to the King, but with no passion now: so might a
mother have thought of her son. He was sleeping, forgetful of even her
in his dreams. What matter? She was glad at heart. The Queen was dearer
to her than the King--so strange is life; so healing is death. She
remembered without surprise that she had asked no forgiveness of the
Queen for all the cruel wrongs, for the deadly intent--had made no
confession. Again what matter? What is forgiveness when love is all?

She turned from the dawn-light to the light in the face of the Queen.
It was well. Led by such a hand, she could present herself without fear
before the Lords of Life and Death--she and the child. She smiled. Life
is good, but death, which is more life, is better. The son of the King
was safe, but her own son safer.

When the conqueror reentered the chamber, he found the dead Queen
guarding the dead child, and across her feet, as not worthy to lie
beside her, was the body of the Indian woman, most beautiful in death.

FIRE OF BEAUTY

(Salutation to Ganesa the Lord of Wisdom, and to Saraswate the Lady of
Sweet Speech!)

This story was composed by the Brahmin Visravas, that dweller on the
banks of holy Kashi; and though the events it records are long past, yet
it is absolutely and immutably true because, by the power of his yoga,
he summoned up every scene before him, and beheld the persons moving
and speaking as in life. Thus he had naught to do but to set down what
befell.

What follows, that hath he seen.

I

Wide was the plain, the morning sun shining full upon it, drinking up
the dew as the Divine drinks up the spirit of man. Far it stretched,
resembling the ocean, and riding upon it like a stately ship was the
league-long Rock of Chitor. It is certainly by the favour of the Gods
that this great fortress of the Rajput Kings thus rises from the plain,
leagues in length, noble in height; and very strange it is to see the
flat earth fall away from it like waters from the bows of a boat, as it
soars