REALMAH’S COURTSHIP.

It certainly seemed to be a great folly on Realmah’s part to have engaged in that game of _mocra_, at which he was sure to cut so sorry a figure. But strangely enough it turned out otherwise. Those who had been beaten at the various games consoled themselves, and did what they could to lower the conquerors, by talking a great deal about Realmah’s merits, and putting him forward as the hero of the day. What a man he would have been, they said, if he had been a man at all like the rest of them! One lucky stroke or adroit movement he had been fortunate enough to make; and this was magnified into a proof of great possible dexterity.

His wives, too, had not been idle on the day of the festival. The Ainah had not only insinuated great praise of Realmah into Talora’s ears, but, in her quiet way, had gone about the crowd, especially amongst her own people, the fishermen, scattering homely sayings in her rude language, tending to show what a great man her husband-master was in her estimation.

The Varnah, too, amongst the sensible maidens and judicious matrons who were entrusted with giving out the provisions for the day, did not fail to praise Realmah. She looked upon him as one of her chattels; and it was never her practice to lower the value of any property that she possessed. Realmah was no fool, she could tell them. _Peki-Pekee_ (a very comprehensive term, meaning good store of provisions, comfort, abundance, general well-being) was not unknown in their house, and never would be, she thought. In short, she gave out the idea that she was marvellously well contented with her cousin; and all the women thought that, if the prudent Varnah was contented, there must indeed be prosperity in Realmah’s home.

At the end of the day, there was a sort of ovation in honour of Realmah, and he was accompanied home by a great crowd, and with loud noise of instruments of music which would not much have delighted our ears, but which were very pleasing to the Sheviri.

All these things produced a great impression upon Talora, for she was one of those who mostly see with other people’s eyes, and with whom general report is a kind of gospel not to be questioned. Philip Van Artevelde’s severe words about women would have well applied to Talora:--

“What’s fieriest still finds favour in their eyes; What’s noisiest keeps the entrance of their ears. The noise and blaze of arms enchant them most: Wit too, and wisdom, that’s admired of all, They can admire--the glory, not the thing. An unreflected light did never yet Dazzle the vision feminine.”

As for Athlah, she had never intended for one moment to listen seriously to his suit. The cunning Talora knew full well that Athlah’s wife would be very little better than a slave.

Still, however, she hesitated; still she doubted; and Realmah paid court to the capricious beauty with very dubious prospects as to the result. One day she was gracious, another day she was cold; and the poor young man, throughout his courtship, suffered all the tortures that an anxious, unblessed love can give.

Talora’s conduct might have been different if she had had the guidance of a mother, but no mention is made of a mother, either in the case of the Ainah, or the Varnah, or Talora. From this and from other circumstances, it may be inferred that there was great mortality amongst the women in the lake cities. Whether this was caused by a certain hardness in their mode of life, or by the unwholesomeness of dwelling on the water, which was corrected, in the case of the men, by their occupations on dry land in the daytime, and perhaps also by their drinking freely of a certain intoxicating drink which will be hereafter described: certain it is that the loss amongst the male population by war was balanced by this peculiar mortality amongst the women.

The existence of polygamy is not an argument to the contrary, for it was only allowed in the princely families, and there were perhaps not more than seven persons in Abibah and its dependencies who had more than one wife. Moreover, in any one of these princely families, if the Varnah or the Ainah died, she was not replaced.

Now, according to the rites and customs of the Sheviri, which were very rigid, it was not thought proper for a young man to ask a maiden the direct question whether she would marry him. That would have been thought highly indecorous; but the custom was, that he should present her with a flowering plant (having only a single flower to it) in an earthen vase; and this plant was always put out by the maiden on the flat roof of the porch[9] in front of her father’s house, or on some other place fully exposed to the rays of the sun. If she suffered the flower to wither and die, it signified that she would have nothing whatever to do with her lover’s suit. If, on the contrary, she diligently watered and tended the plant, and kept the flower alive, that was held to be an acceptance of his suit, and a pledge which must be redeemed.

Footnote 9:

This porch had an outer staircase to it; it was a place where the maidens, at evening time, were often to be seen sitting at their work.

After having endured a great many slights, and also having received a good many marks of favour, Realmah found the state of things unendurable. His courage came to his aid, and he resolved to put his suit to the absolute test of offering Talora the flower. It was with trembling hands that, at the close of an interview with her, in which, without saying anything definite, Realmah had striven to make himself as acceptable as he could to the maiden, he presented the plant without a word, and withdrew.

It was the custom that, during the days of probation, which were never less than eight, the lover should not make his appearance at the house of his beloved; but he generally contrived to have the house well watched day and night, by some faithful friend, to see what was done with the flower. There was, as may be imagined, a good deal of coquetry shown by the maidens of Abibah in their modes of dealing with this very significant flower.

Some of them paid great attention to it for a day or two, and then let it fade away altogether. Others watered it and cared for it the first day, then allowed it to droop, but finally recovered it by the most diligent care and attention before the end of the eighth day. Others again paid no attention whatever to the flower till it was upon the point of dying, and then bestowed the most loving care on it. There were those, too, who never by any chance went near their flower in the daytime, but in the most stealthy manner contrived at night to tend it and revive it.

Talora proceeded in a manner which was a little different from all of these. She did not hesitate to be seen in the broad daylight looking at her flower, taking it up, and admiring it; but Realmah’s foster-brother, who watched for him, could not detect that Talora gave the poor flower any water. Still it seemed to thrive. And this was not to be wondered at, for the cunning Talora, though apparently she only looked at the plant, and took it up, and picked a leaf occasionally, in reality contrived, by squeezing a little wet moss which she secreted in her hand, to give the plant a few drops of water whenever she visited it.

At length the eventful eighth day arrived, and with it the apparent confirmation of Realmah’s brightest hopes, for the rays of the rising sun brought out in all their beauty the rich colours of a flower which showed no signs of fading, and which was conspicuous upon the porch that was overlooked by the chamber where reposed the beautiful Talora.

The reservoir (they had reservoirs of rain water which was highly prized) near her father’s house seemed that morning to be in especial favour with the humble maidens of Abibah, who were the water-carriers.

Many a young man, too, found some good reason for visiting that quarter of the city very early on that day; and, as he sauntered by Talora’s dwelling, did not fail to look up at the flower, and smile or sigh.

The truth is, there had been intense curiosity and interest throughout Abibah about the fate of this flower; and there was hardly a maiden in the whole city--certainly not in that quarter of it where Talora dwelt--who had not told her companions what she should, or what she should not, do if she were Talora.

The youths had betted many shells upon the event; and even the elderly men had talked about it at their councils, for pleasant gossip is not always unwelcome even amidst the discussion of the greatest affairs. The good chief of the South, Talora’s father, must have had reason to think highly of his power and sagacity, for it was wonderful how many grave and wise persons sought his counsel, or his aid, that day.

The general feeling about this love affair, which had been very much divided (some saying that Talora would be very foolish, and others that she would be very wise, if she suffered the flower to live), became almost unanimous in approbation when there appeared to be a certainty that the flower would live.

Still, however, Realmah was far from certain of his happiness till the sun should go down, as he had heard of maidens who, by some cunning deadly liquid, had contrived to wither up the flower in the last few hours. Realmah’s anxiety was so intense, that, breaking through the ordinary custom, he took the seat of his watcher, and watched all day long himself.

Talora did not come near the flower throughout the day, but it had been so carefully tended by her the preceding seven days that it did not wither, and, when the sun went down, Realmah entered the house, and was received by Talora, half-smiling, half-frowning, as her affianced husband.

She was very provoking, and very charming; but Realmah thought that whatever she said or did was altogether graceful and delightful, not discerning that ways which are often very pretty in a kitten sometimes give sure indication of what will not be quite so pleasant when the kitten develops into the cat.

On Realmah’s return home, his wives, the Varnah and the Ainah, had only to look at his countenance to know how his suit had sped. Deeply did the Varnah meditate whether Talora’s dowry would thoroughly compensate for the additional burden of a vain and expensive girl on their household. The Ainah, contrary to what might be expected, was heartily glad at Realmah’s success in love. She felt proud that she had had something to do with it, and she took delight in the prospect of any happiness for Realmah, however that happiness might be attained. Realmah, though he had never pretended to love what may be called his official wives, or had expected much love from them, was yet a little hurt (such is the vanity of man) at their apparent indifference as to the coming of the new wife. He little imagined what was in the Ainah’s heart. But men will always fail to understand women from the beginning to the end of the chapter--from the days when the sun shone upon many island towns upon the Swiss lakes, to the days when, as now, the waters have recovered their dominion, and the sun shines upon pleasant châlets perched up on the sides of the mountains that overhang those beautiful lakes.

The marriage of the wise Realmah with the beautiful Talora was soon afterwards celebrated with much pomp and festivity; and all the citizens of Abibah, except one or two old men who were near relations of Talora, said that Realmah was a most fortunate man--happy in love, successful in policy, and likely to rise to the highest dignity in the state.