lay me first,
or die himself. And she said: Poor Bruin, this alone is very sure, that
love must be a very demon, since he has filled thee with such a raging
thirst for the slaughter of the sons of Kings. But come now, I will tell
thee a better way: and that is, to kill me: for so wilt thou effectually
circumvent and cheat all these love-sick and imaginary Kings, at a
single blow: if, as it seems, I am to be a cause of strife and
bloodshed, as long as I am alive.

And he looked at her fixedly, and said: Jest not with my devotion, for
it may be, thou art nearer the truth than thou imaginest. Will any King
whatever love thee half as well as I do? Yet thou wilt not love me, and
as I think, it is because I am not on the level of thy thoughts, and not
a King.[37] Then she laughed, and exclaimed: Alas! poor Bruin, thou art
mad: for all these Kings are only dreams, yet art thou as savage as if
they were actually before thee in a row. And he said: Aye! only dreams:
and yet the dreams are earnest, and are thine. Kings are the very
matter of thy dreams. Is not this the subject of thy reveries as thou
gazest at the sand? Ha! am I right? Dost thou never long for some King's
son to come and fill thy life with joy, and deliver thee from the
monotony of this wood, and thy father, and myself? Am I not below thee,
in thy estimation? Then for what canst thou long, but for thy peer?

[Footnote 37: It should be remembered by the English reader that "sons
of Kings" are more numerous, in India, than in the West. All Rajpoots
are sons of Kings: and Aranyani herself a Rajpootni. To marry a King's
son would be for her, not merely a desire, but a duty: an affair of
caste. All this flavour evaporates in a translation.]

And he looked keenly at Aranyani, and as her eyes met his, she wavered,
a very little, and looked away, and said: Alas! poor Babhru, thy love is
jealousy, which makes thee so sharp-sighted, that thou seest things that
are not there. So trouble not thy foolish head about anything so slight
and insignificant as the subject of my dreams, otherwise thou wilt place
thyself on the level of the zanies of Chincholi. And he said: Thou
speakest the very truth: I am the very type of a fool, striving to reach
what is above him and beyond his reach, even when he stands on tiptoe:
and that is, the level of thy thoughts. And Aranyani said: See now, I
said well, thou art the very fellow of the sages of Chincholi: a city,
into which on a day ther