When the expedition set out to Rintambhor, Sayyid Músá contrived to remain behind. He took a house within the fortress of Ágra in the vicinity of his beloved on the banks of the river Jumna, near to Mír Sayyid Jalál Mutawakkil, and his affairs tended to madness. Once or twice accompanied by trusty persons of his own he had gone outside his own house, and had fallen either into the hands of the watchman, or into the hands of some goldsmiths of her caste:—

“There is an angel on the battlement of you round cupola,
Which draws a wall before the desire of the unfortunate.”

A period of two years and four months passed, during which they were content with a glance now and then from afar, till one night Sayyid Músá, at a hint from that fascinating lady, threw a lasso, strong as the covenant of the just, and straight as the promise of the liberal, over the cupola of Mohiní's house, and climbed up like a rope-dancer, and so they spent the night together in chaste affection. A poem called Dilfaríb, which Sayyid Sháhí, brother of Sayyid Músá, composed, has some verses on that subject:—(P. 111).

“However much the desire of the heart was boiling,
Modesty made a proclamation: Be silent!
Before his eyes the water of life,
But not for a moment the power to drink it.
Their hearts from extreme of thirstiness fevered,
But their lips were sealed through modesty.
One place of retirement, and two persons in love,
Their hearts united, their bodies apart.
They remained two heart-inflaming wounded ones,
In the game of “united yet apart” till morning.
This is true love in my opinion,
Which has driven out of the heart all thought of desire.
When the heart is once dead through desire,
How can love take up its abode therein?
There is not in this bewildered world
A place for love, save in the purest heart.
Love is the confidant of the pure in heart,
Love is the friend of the sorrowful.

In short, with a hundred caresses and blandishments
They opened a thousand volumes of mysteries.
And when they saw the dawn draw near,
They bade each other adieu.”

But at the time of saying adieu it so happened, that the beloved rising from the pillow of sleep, bade farewell to house and home, and despising fair fame and reputation, went with her lover, as the moonlight with the moon, or the shadow with the substance, and said:—

“O thou true and faithful lover,
I am at one with thee, doubt not!
The covenant, that first I made with thee,
That covenant is the same as long as I live.
Rise that we may show a care for ourselves,
And may descend again from the roof.
That, while it is not yet known,
We may steal away before morning.”

So they made off from that spot, borrowing swiftness from the wind, and speed from the water, and remained concealed for three days in the house of a trustworthy friend. Meanwhile the relatives of the lady surrounded the house of Sayyid Músá like a ring, and brought claims and litigation. And Sayyid Sháhí, the younger brother of the aforesaid Sayyid (P. 112), who has a sincere friend­ship for the writer of these pages, and put this story from beginning to end into verse, some of which verses have been quoted above, returned answer to them, and spent the time in ‘Perhapses’ and “Wouldthats.” The lady was informed of that concourse, and her heart being alarmed for Sayyid Músá, lest he should come to any harm at the hands of the Governor, through stress of circumstances parted from that lover, and cheered him with the promise of meeting him again. She herself, through fear of the stain of dishonour, which might cleave to her cheek, returned to her house, and made the following excuse. She said: “On such and such a night, when sleep was firmly settled on my eyes, a person of such heart-ravishing form, that none ever sees the like of it in his dreams, took me by the hand, and I passed from dream-land to the land of imagination, and that sleep was changed into wakefulness. And I saw distinctly that glorious form, with a crown encircled with jewels upon his head, and two wings of light upon his breast. And over me like one bewildered, confounded, he reciting a charm caused his form to pass, and caught me up on his wings and pinions, and bore me to a certain city, the description of which may perchance have been heard in some fairy-tale, and took and set me down in a high and inaccessible tower full of wonders and strange things of every kind, and in every corner of it were troops of beings of Peri-birth:—

However much that heart-ravishing place Was, by God! a place of highest joy, And all that troop of Ḥúri-born beauties Was standing to do me service; Yet on account of absence from my friends My soul could take no rest. I was dying with longing for my mother, I was burning with sorrow for my brother. Every moment in this sorrow-suffering body Separation from my father kindled fire. When I had spent three days in that place In melancholy weeping and soul-burning sighs,

(P. 113)

They all saw that I was very much afflicted, Much broken down through sorrow, They became aware of my suffering, And they took pity on my condition. In the same way that they brought me to that place, And having brought me gave me over to such sorrow, So they brought me to my own house, And delivered me from this suffering and pain.”

The silly Hindús believed this beautiful deception. But, although it would have been better to have concealed the matter, yet through spite they kept that Treasure* in a ring of iron serpents, and shut her up under lock and key in an upper room. Sayyid Músá through separation was overcome by the catastrophe, and taking the title of ‘Disgraced’ suddenly took leave of the bride of his senses too:—

“Alas! that love has again tended to madness,
And drawn the line of insanity over the book of wisdom.
The first quill, which the beloved has drawn over the page of blandishment,
Has drawn the line of madness over the letter of her friend.”

And, when this fact became as well-known as the sun at midday heat, and stories about it were told in every assembly, and a description of it was in every mouth, that heart-ravisher sent a message by her tire-woman, saying: I myself in the midst of a thousand troubles and annoyances, have altogether escaped from the hands and tongues of my traducers by means of such explanations and excuses, as women know how to make:—

“From the reproach of the people of my time I have escaped,
Free from such a trouble I have sat.
Thou hast set thy foot in the street of madness,
And my trouble thou hast thrown to the winds.
Now, if thou canst find any remedy,
I hope that thou wilt not turn thy face from it.
Act in such a way that this story
Become not notorious in their age.
Viz., thou shouldest go away from my city,
And withdraw thyself from my dwelling-place.
But, with the idea of friendship,
One confidential friend thou shouldst leave;
Then, when he knows my condition,
Each day he may send thee news.”

(P. 114). Then Sayyid Músá in accordance with her request, start­ing in the morning took leave of her, as she was, with every de­monstration of grief on both sides. He left a confidential friend there to serve him, and himself set off towards Rintambhor with the fixed purpose of paying his respects to the Emperor:—

“When I go towards thy street, I make one stage of two hundred steps,
When I go out from thence, I make a stage at every step.”

But that fair one could not bear the pain of separation, so after some days she came to an understanding with that confidential friend, and said: “Do you to-night, and in the guise of a beggar, raise a cry for alms, and I on the pretext of giving you something will come out of the house, and will go out of this city with you.” So at the appointed time, under the pretext she had suggested, she left the house of her father and mother, and trusting her affairs to her modesty, which was her safeguard, she turned her face to flight:—

“As soon as grief for him became my friend,
I turned my face towards the road to non-existence.
Sweet is wandering to one,
Who has such a companion.”

The preparations had been made beforehand. For three days they remained hidden in the city, and then with joyful hearts set off towards Fatḥpúr and Biyánah. As luck would have it, inasmuch as God (He is glorious!) willed it not, suddenly in the midst of the road some of the relatives of that Beauty appeared, like an unexpect­ed misfortune, and recognizing her by her charms, which were as evident as the light of day though she herself was veiled, took hold of her firmly by the skirt:—