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"Quick, Hasamurti!" Inside the carriage, with a lot more chuckling and giggling a change was taking place almost as complete as that from chrysalis to butterfly. The toilet of a lady of Yasmini's nice discrimination takes time in the easiest circumstances; in a lumbering coach, not built for leg-room, and with a looking-glass the size of a saucer, it was a mixture of horse-play and miracle.
Hasamurti, gripping Tess's fingers, caught her breath in something like a sob, while Tess could think of nothing else than Brynhild's oath: "O Sigurd, Sigurd, Now hearken while I swear! The day shall die forever And the sun to darkness wear Ere I forget thee, Sigurd...."
"Ah-h-h!" was her greeting the unbidden, irrepressible, astonished gasp of mixed emotion of a crowd that sees more wonder than it bargained for. The twelve princesses took their place beside her on the dais, six on either side. Immediately behind her Tess and Hasamurti stood. Yasmini's other maids arranged themselves with their backs to the gilded door.
Hasamurti sang during the meal, ballad after ballad of the warring history of Rajasthan and its royal heroines, accompanying herself on a stringed instrument, and the ballads seemed to strike the right chord in Yasmini's heart, for when the meal finished she was queenly and alert, her blue eyes blazing.
"We have eaten a little, little bit each day of the servants' rice, washing it first for hours, until today, when two of the servants were taken sick and we thought perhaps their food was poisoned too. Oh, we're hungry!" Hasamurti, Yasmini's maid, opened the basket on the floor and crowed aloud. Tess apologized.
Then Tess and Hasamurti took their stand again, hand in each other's hand, and watched once more. It was love-making such as Tess had never dreamed of, and Tess was no familiar of hoydenish amours; gentle poetic dignified on his part manly as the plighting of the troth of warriors' sons should be.
Tess and Hasamurti followed, side by side, not down the main hall, but to the left, into a suite of rooms reserved for women, where they all removed their veils and the talking and laughter began anew. There were dozens of other women in there about half as many ladies as attendants, and they made more noise than a swarm of Vassar freshmen at the close of term.
The other women climbed on to the elephant behind, and the third one was mounted by one man, who looked like a prince, to judge by the jewels glittering in his turban. "His brother!" Hasamurti whispered. Then again a hoarse command broke on the stillness. Horses wheeled out from the shadow of the wall, led by saises, and the Rajput gentry mounted.
They were still in the window, Yasmini kneeling on the cushions with her face in shadow and Tess with her back to the light. "Ah! Hasamurti comes!" said Yasmini suddenly. "She is my cheti." Tess turned swiftly, but all she saw was one of the three beggars down by the little gate twisting himself a garland out of stolen flowers.
Her lips repeated it over and over, like a prayer, until the man put his arm about Yasmini and they turned and walked together to the temple. Then Hasamurti tugged at Tess, and they followed, keeping their distance, until Yasmini and her lover sat on one stone in the moonlight on the temple porch, their faces clearly lighted by the mellow beams.
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