the ninth vibration-第1部分

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The　Ninth　Vibration；　et。　al。

by　L。　Adams　Beck




CONTENTS

THE　NINTH　VIBRATION

THE　INTERPRETER
A　ROMANCE　OF　THE　EAST

THE　INCOMPARABLE　LADY
A　STORY　OF　CHINA　WITH　A　MORAL

THE　HATRED　OF　THE　QUEEN
A　STORY　OF　BURMA

FIRE　OF　BEAUTY

THE　BUILDING　OF　THE　TAJ　MAHAL

〃HOW　GREAT　IS　THE　GLORY　OF　KWANNON！〃

〃THE　ROUND…FACED　BEAUTY〃



THE　NINTH　VIBRATION

There　is　a　place　uplifted　nine　thousand　feet　in　purest　air　where　one　of　the　most　ancient　tracks　in　the　world　runs　from　India　into　Tibet。　It　leaves　Simla　of　the　Imperial　councils　by　a　stately　road；　it　passes　beyond；　but　now　narrowing；　climbing　higher　beside　the　khuds　or　steep　drops　to　the　precipitous　valleys　beneath；　and　the　rumor　of　Simla　grows　distant　and　the　way　is　quiet；　for；　owing　to　the　danger　of　driving　horses　above　the　khuds；　such　baggage　as　you　own　must　be　carried　by　coolies；　and　you　yourself　must　either　ride　on　horseback　or　in　the　little　horseless　carriage　of　the　Orient；　here　drawn　and　pushed　by　four　men。　And　presently　the　deodars　darken　the　way　with　a　solemn　presence；　for…

　　These　are　the　Friars　of　the　wood；　　　The　Brethren　of　the　Solitude　　　Hooded　and　grave…〃

…their　breath　most　austerely　pure　in　the　gradually　chilling　air。　Their　companies　increase　and　now　the　way　is　through　a　great　wood　where　it　has　become　a　trail　and　no　more；　and　still　it　climbs　for　many　miles　and　finally　a　rambling　bungalow；　small　and　low；　is　sighted　in　the　deeps　of　the　trees；　a　mountain　stream　from　unknown　heights　falling　beside　it。　And　this　is　known　as　the　House　in　the　Woods。　Very　few　people　are　permitted　to　go　there；　for　the　owner　has　no　care　for　money　and　makes　no　provision　for　guests。　You　must　take　your　own　servant　and　the　khansamah　will　cook　you　such　simple　food　as　men　expect　in　the　wilds；　and　that　is　all。　You　stay　as　long　as　you　please　and　when　you　leave　not　even　a　gift　to　the　khansamah　is　permitted。

I　had　been　staying　in　Ranipur　of　the　plains　while　I　considered　the　question　of　getting　to　Upper　Kashmir　by　the　route　from　Simla　along　the　old　way　to　Chinese　Tibet　where　I　would　touch　Shipki　in　the　Dalai　Lama's　territory　and　then　pass　on　to　Zanskar　and　so　down　to　Kashmir　…　a　tremendous　route　through　the　Himalaya　and　a　crowning　experience　of　the　mightiest　mountain　scenery　in　the　world。　I　was　at　Ranipur　for　the　purpose　of　consulting　my　old　friend　Olesen；　now　an　irrigation　official　in　the　Rampur　district　…　a　man　who　had　made　this　journey　and　nearly　lost　his　life　in　doing　it。　It　is　not　now　perhaps　so　dangerous　as　it　was；　and　my　life　was　of　no　particular　value　to　any　one　but　myself；　and　the　plan　interested　me。

I　pass　over　the　long　discussions　of　ways　and　means　in　the　blinding　heat　of　Ranipur。　Olesen　put　all　his　knowledge　at　my　service　and　never　uttered　a　word　of　the　envy　that　must　have　filled　him　as　he　looked　at　the　distant　snows　cool　and　luminous　in　blue　air；　and；　shrugging　good…natured　shoulders；　spoke　of　the　work　that　lay　before　him　on　the　burning　plains　until　the　terrible　summer　should　drag　itself　to　a　close。　We　had　vanquished　the　details　and　were　smoking　in　comparative　silence　one　night　on　the　veranda；　when　he　said　in　his　slow　reflective　way；

〃You　don't　like　the　average　hotel；　Ormond；　and　you'll　like　it　still　less　up　Simla　way　with　all　the　Simla　crowd　of　grass…widows　and　fellows　out　for　as　good　a　time　as　they　can　cram　into　the　hot　weather。　I　wonder　if　I　could　get　you　a　permit　for　The　House　in　the　Woods　while　you　re　waiting　to　fix　up　your　men　and　route　for　Shipki。〃

He　explained　and　of　course　I　jumped　at　the　chance。　It　belonged；　he　said；　to　a　man　named　Rup　Singh；　a　pandit；　or　learned　man　of　Ranipur。　He　had　always　spent　the　summer　there；　but　age　and　failing　health　made　this　impossible　now；　and　under　certain　conditions　he　would　occasionally　allow　people　known　to　friends　of　his　own　to　put　up　there。

〃And　Rup　Singh　and　I　are　very　good　friends；〃　Olesen　said；　〃I　won　his　heart　by　discovering　the　lost　Sukh　Mandir；　or　Hall　of　Pleasure；　built　many　centuries　ago　by　a　Maharao　of　Ranipur　for　a　summer　retreat　in　the　great　woods　far　beyond　Simla。　There　are　lots　of　legends　about　it　here　in　Ranipur。　They　call　it　The　House　of　Beauty。　Rup　Singh's　ancestor　had　been　a　close　friend　of　the　Maharao　and　was　with　him　to　the　end；　and　that's　why　he　himself　sets　such　store　on　the　place。　You　have　a　good　chance　if　I　ask　for　a　permit。

He　told　me　the　story　and　since　it　is　the　heart　of　my　own　I　give　it　briefly。　Many　centuries　ago　the　Ranipur　Kingdom　was　ruled　by　the　Maharao　Rai　Singh　a　prince　of　the　great　lunar　house　of　the　Rajputs。　Expecting　a　bride　from　some　far　away　kingdom　（the　name　of　this　is　unrecorded）　he　built　the　Hall　of　Pleasure　as　a　summer　palace；　a　house　of　rare　and　costly　beauty。　A　certain　great　chamber　he　lined　with　carved　figures　of　the　Gods　and　their　stories；　almost　unsurpassed　for　truth　and　life。　So；　with　the　pine　trees　whispering　about　it　the　secret　they　sigh　to　tell；　he　hoped　to　create　an　earthly　Paradise　with　this　Queen　in　whom　all　loveliness　was　perfected。　And　then　some　mysterious　tragedy　ended　all　his　hopes。　It　was　rumoured　that　when　the　Princess　came　to　his　court；　she　was；　by　some　terrible　mistake；　received　with　insult　and　offered　the　position　only　of　one　of　his　women。　After　that　nothing　was　known。　Certain　only　is　it　that　he　fled　to　the　hills；　to　the　home　of　his　broken　hope；　and　there　ended　his　days　in　solitude；　save　for　the　attendance　of　two　faithful　friends　who　would　not　abandon　him　even　in　the　ghostly　quiet　of　the　winter　when　the　pine　boughs　were　heavy　with　snow　and　a　spectral　moon　stared　at　the　panthers　shuffling　through　the　white　wastes　beneath。　Of　these　two　Rup　Singh's　ancestor　was　one。　And　in　his　thirty　fifth　year　the　Maharao　died　and　his　beauty　and　strength　passed　into　legend　and　his　kingdom　was　taken　by　another　and　the　jungle　crept　silently　over　his　Hall　of　Pleasure　and　the　story　ended。

〃There　was　not　a　memory　of　the　place　up　there；〃　Olesen　went　on。　〃Certainly　I　never　heard　anything　of　it　when　I　went　up　to　the　Shipki　in　1904。　But　I　had　been　able　to　be　useful　to　Rup　Singh　and　he　gave　me　a　permit　for　The　House　in　the　Woods；　and　I　stopped　there　for　a　few　days'　shooting。　I　remember　that　day　so　well。　I　was　wandering　in　the　dense　woods　while　my　men　got　their　midday　grub；　and　I　missed　the　trail　somehow　and　found　myself　in　a　part　where　the　trees　were　dark　and　thick　and　the　silence　heavy　as　lead。　It　was　as　if　the　trees　were　on　guard　…　they　stood　shoulder　to　shoulder　and　stopped　the　way。　Well；　I　halted；　and　had　a　notion　there　was　something　beyond　that　made　me　doubt　whether　to　go　on。　I　must　have　stood　there　five　minutes　hesitating。　Then　I　pushed　on；　bruising　the　thick　ferns　under　my　shooting　boots　and　stooping　under　the　knotted　boughs。　Suddenly　I　tramped　out　of　the　jungle　into　a　clearing；　and　lo　and　behold　a　ruined　House；　with　blocks　of　marble　lying　all　about　it；　and　carved　pillars　and　a　great　roof　all　being　slowly　smothered　by　the　jungle。　The　weirdest　thing　you　ever　saw。　I　climbed　some　fallen　columns　to　get　a　better　look；　and　as　I　did　I　saw　a　face　flash　by　at　the　arch　of　a　broken　window。　I　sang　out　in　Hindustani；　but　no　answer：　only　the　echo　from　the　woods。　Somehow　that　dampened　my　ardour；　and　I　didn't　go　in　to　what　seemed　like　a　great　ruined　hall　for　the　place　was　so　eerie　and　lonely；　and　looked　mighty　snaky　into　the　bargain。　So　I　came　ingloriously　away　and　told　Rup　Singh。　And　his　whole　face　changed。　'That　is　The　House　of　Beauty；'　he　said。　'All　my　life　have　I　sought　it　and　in　vain。　For；　friend　of　my　soul；　a　man　must　lose　himself　that　he　may　find　himself　and　what　lies　beyond；　and　the　trodden　path　has　ever　been　my　doom。　And　you　who　have　not　sought　have　seen。　Most　strange　are　the　way　of　the　Gods'。　Later　on　I　knew　this　was　why　he　had　always　gone　up　yearly；　thinking　and　dreaming　God　knows　what。　He　and　I　tried　for　the　place　together；　but　in　vain　and　the　whole　thing　is　like　a　dream。　Twice　he　has　let　friends　of　mine　stay　at　The　House　in　the　Woods；　and　I　think　he　won't　refuse　now。〃

〃Did　he　ever　tell　you　the　story？〃

〃Never。　I　only　know　what　I've　picked　up　here。　Some　horrible　mistake　about　the　Rani　that　drove　the　man　almost　mad　with　remorse。　I've　heard　bits　here　and　there。　There's　nothing　so　vital　as　tradition　in　India。〃

〃I　wonder'。　what　really　happened。〃

〃That　we　shall　never　know。　I　got　a　little　old　picture　of　the　Maharao　…　said　to　be　painted　by　a　Pahari　artist。　It's　not　likely　to　be　authentic；　but　you　never　can　tell。　A　Brahman　sold　it　to　me　that　he　might　complete　his　daughter's　dowry；　and　hated　doing　it。〃

〃May　I　see　it？〃

〃Why　certainly。　Not　a　very　good　light；　but　…　can　do；　as　the　Chinks　say。

He　brought　it　out　rolled　in　silk　stuff　and　I　carried　it　under　the　hanging　lamp。　A　beautiful　young　man　indeed；　with　the　air　of　race　these　people　have　beyond　all　others；…　a　cold　haughty　face；　immovably　dignified。　He　sat　with　his　hands　resting　lightly　on　the　arms　of　his　chair　of　State。　A　crescent　of　rubies　clasped　the　folds　of　the　turban　and　from　this　sprang　an　aigrette　scattering　splendours。　The　magnificent　hilt　of　a　sword　was　ready　beside　him。　The　face　was　not　only　beautiful　but　arresting。

〃A　strange　picture；〃　I　said。　〃The　artist　has　captured　the　man　himself。　I　can　see　him　trampling　on　any　one　who　opposed　him；　and　suffering　in　the　same　cold　secret　way。　It　ought　to　h