Page:Rabindranath Tagore - A Biographical Study.djvu/84

 the last of the day's pageant; and he starts up with the intention of a ride in the cool evening, when he hears footsteps. He looks up, and sees nobody; and goes back to his seat. But more, and yet more, footfalls sound as if a whole troop of girls, merry and light-footed, are running down to the river to bathe. And next, although the stream remains still, it is certain that the bathers are swimming there and ruffling the water, and throwing up the spray like handfuls of pearls. Next day when he returns from his office work and goes upstairs to the lonely state chambers at twilight he is aware of a tumult within, as if a great assembly had just broken up. The drip of the water in the fountain resolves itself into the clink of golden ornaments, the tinkle of anklets, the peal of great copper bells and other earthly and festive music.

That night he sleeps in a small room that adjoins the other, and he is visited by the apparition of one of these old palace dwellers—an Arab maid with firm well-rounded arms that seem hard as marble below her ample sleeves. A filmy piece of stuff that hangs from a corner of her cap hides her face; a curved dagger is