Yet I knew I could trace the almost
obliterated sculpture only because I had already seen it defined
in perfect beauty. A deep crack ran across the marble; it was
weathered and stained by many rains, and little ferns grew in the
crevices, but I could reconstruct every line from my own
knowledge. And how? The Parvati of Ranipur differed in many
important details. She stood, bending forward, wheras this sweet
Lady sat. Her attendants were small satyr-like spirits of the
wilds, piping and fluting, in place of the reclining maiden. The
sweeping scrolls of a great halo encircled her whole person. Then
how could I tell what this neary obliterated carving had been? I
groped for the answer and could not find it. I doubted-
"Were such things here as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten of the insane root
That takes the reason captive?"
Memory rushed over me like the sea over dry sands. A girl - there
had been a girl - we had stood with clasped hands to hear a
strange music, but in spite of the spiritual intimacy of those
moments I could not recall her face. I saw it cloudy against a
background of night and dream, the eyes remote as stars, and so
it eluded me.
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